Fearful Symmetry
by Croik
Summary: During Vincent's time as a Turk, he meets a cough charming cough young woman
1. Chapter 1

Fearful Symmetry

Chapter 1: Slum Baby

* * *

Vincent Valentine stepped off the train, crossing the threshold into Slithe—more commonly known as Sector Six. Instantly his senses were filled with the slum's trademark: the smell of beer and smoke, the harsh, neon lights, and the sound of women "earning" their living. He allowed himself no expression as he straightened his navy Turks suit and stepped down from the platform. The Shinra manager cast him a look of comprehension before returning to the train's interior.

Naturally the manager had thought Vincent was some kind of executive taking a night off. After all, Sector Six was the ideal place for recreation. But this trip wasn't such an excursion; he had no interest in falling victim to the slum's addictive pull. This was business. And unlike the men and women of Slithe, he would be able to turn his back on the grime and filth once he was finished; because Vincent knew the risks of losing himself here. At twenty-two he was a man made from sense. He'd lived in nearly every situation a man could find himself in, and he'd learned from it. A particularly dark portion of his memory rested in the slums, and he wasn't about to let those mistakes resurface.

The night was cold. Vincent turned up the collar of his navy suit, hoping to drive out some of the chill. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he entered the infamous Wall Market. Ever since the city's creation criminals, drug-addicts, and prostitutes gathered here, drawn by empty promises and obsession. Vincent wasn't a stranger here. Even before being hired by the Turks he'd often come to this place, letting it feed off of him. The memories rested unpleasantly in him, twisting his features into a frown. Remembering those times filled him with shame an remorse, and seeing the young men that walked the streets made it worse, because they were caught in a fate that had once been his own.

_Enough. You're on duty now._

Vincent let his breath out slowly through his nose, not quite as a sigh. He focused on the task at hand. His target was a gang leader and all-around trouble-maker, Mack Ginnis. The mission was simple: for the past two weeks he'd been visiting the bar that was Ginnis's hangout, and now was the night to take him out. One bullet would be enough.

The bar, "Satan's Closet," was less busy than usual, for which Vincent thanked his luck. The interior was small, with only the bar along the south wall, and four tables with chairs. Vincent took his usual seat at the end of the bar and ordered one drink, which he would sip from slowly over the next several hours. He didn't like drinking, but otherwise his Shinra status would be quickly divulged. As it was, he was sure the bar owner had caught on to his intentions there. As long as Ginnis continued to come to the bar and spill information over his drink, Vincent didn't care.

At ten o'clock the bar door swung open loudly, and in walked Mack Ginnis. He was a short, powerfully built man wearing a black muscle shirt and jeans, his brown hair shaved to stubble. He greeted the owner obnoxiously and took his seat at the bar.

But this night Ginnis wasn't alone. He was accompanied by a teenage girl in a red tank-top and leather mini-skirt. Her brunette hair terminated just below her jaw, unkept. Vincent was pretty sure that she was one of Wall Market's many "business" women, as he'd seen her with Ginnis before. Tonight, however, her elaborately made-up face was marred with the traces of a bruise on her left cheek, one she'd attempted to cover. She took a seat on Ginnis's right, leaning over the bar with her head pillowed on her arms.

Vincent couldn't help but cast several glances her way. He knew that look: the weary movements, the listless eyes. They were indications of sorrow and failure, like that of a lost soul awakening for the first time to find itself in Hell. His empathy for a moment caused him to forget his mission. Ginnis's laughter pulled him from the momentary repose.

"Two beers," he was saying. "Willy ain't' feeling good tonight. Got a headache." He continued to laugh, as if he'd said something hilarious. The bartender rolled his eyes and fulfilled the order.

This was Vincent's chance. He stood, looking as if his intention were to leave. He crossed behind his target, already removing the handgun from his belt. Ginnis had his head back, gulping down his drink, oblivious to his coming end. The bartender had moved to the end of the bar, his attention on the other clueless customers. He had the perfect shot. With only a bit of satisfaction Vincent pointed the weapon at the back of his target's neck.

He didn't pull the trigger. Just when he was about to curl his finger the girl lifted her head and turned on her stool; before Vincent had the chance to realize what was happening a gun barrel was pressed to his forehead.

"What the—" Ginnis began, setting his beer down. He quickly silenced when he realized what his situation was.

"Don't move," Vincent instructed firmly, refusing to show his sudden panic.

"You're in a hell'uv'a position to be making demands," the girl retorted blandly. She hooked her arm over his, tucking his wrist under her armpit so that he wouldn't be able to turn and shoot her. Her gun dug into his chin, forcing his head up. Vincent obeyed helplessly; though he could no longer see either Ginnis or the girl, he had no choice. "Drop the gun," she said.

Vincent didn't. He knew the moment he did, he'd be dead. He stalled. "You don't have to do this," he reasoned in a voice so calm and sure that it convinced even him. "You don't owe him anything."

The gun didn't lower. "Just keep talking," she muttered sarcastically. "I think it's fucking funny."

Ginnis started to get up, but the Turk pressed his gun harder into his neck. "Don't move," he repeated. He didn't care that everyone in the bar was glaring at him, thinking him a fool.

"Don't be a fucking bitch," the man replied eloquently. "You won't pull the trigger. You'll be dead."

"We all will be." During the short exchange Vincent had stealthily removed his second handgun, and he pressed the barrel into the girl's ribs. "I can fire before she kills me." He tilted his head to the side so that he could see his would-be killer. "'Willy' is short for 'Willow,' isn't it?"

She started visibly in surprise. "Yeah," she muttered. "Willy Trust."

"Don't listen to 'em, Willy," Ginnis growled. "He's just a fucker tryin' to save his Shinra ass."

The bartender, who had been watching the entire scene with amusement, couldn't help but laugh. "Looks like you three are in quite a knot," he remarked. "Maybe I'll grab my shotgun and join you."

"I don't think you could make it any worse," Vincent replied with a bit of a smirk.

"Shut the hell up," Ginnis snapped, shifting on his seat. Not being able to see his assailant was fraying his nerves. "We all know you're not going to shoot us, so get the hell out!"

The Turk ignored him. "Willow," he said, gazing at her as best he could. "You don't want to die in this place. Dying in the slums is like being killed in Hell." When Ginnis protested he shoved his gun painfully into the man's skin. "You know I'm right."

Willy pursed her lips, her anger focusing at him through her features. "Can't be helped," she spat. "And what do you know anyway, Shinra boy?"

"Not much," he admitted gravely. "But I grew up around here. The only reason I kept living was because dying in this filth of a city would be pathetic. Because I wouldn't let it win."

She didn't answer. Her gaze faltered from meeting his, and he could see recognition spreading across her face. After a moment she gave a short bark of laughter. "That's pretty good bull-shit," she said.

Vincent winced, and his finger curled around the trigger. But then the pressure eased from beneath his chin; she had recoiled. Willy took several steps back. "Pretty damn good," she repeated.

"Willy?" Ginnis cursed, and began to stand. "You little bi—"

The percussion of Vincent's gun interrupted the mans' speech. The body slumped heavily over the bar, spilling ashtrays and half-filled beer bottles. Willy didn't even blink, watching dispassionately. Only the killer could see the hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

The bar resumed its normal activity, now that the scene had ended. Vincent returned both guns to his belt and allowed himself a sigh. He faced the girl. "Thank you."

Willy nodded absently, staring down at the corpse. Then she set upon it, relieving her former lover of his watch and wallet. Vincent didn't try to stop her, and said nothing as she scampered out the door and into the street. Instead he pulled a wad of money out of his pocket and handed it to the patiently waiting bartender. "Sorry about the mess."

"You keep staking this place out," the older man snorted, "and my business will go down."

"Don't worry. I won't be back here for a while." Without a backward glance he left the bar, journeying once again into the night.

* * *

It was nearly two weeks later that he received the call from his superior. Adden Trexim, a Senior Turk and oldest member at age 37, was a strict, military-type man. He spoke sharply and to the point. "One of the floor receptionists received a letter last night, if you can call it that," he said through the receiver. "It was labeled 'To the Turk.' Says there's unfinished business at Satan's Closet."

"My old stakeout," Vincent recalled. He couldn't think of what "business" it could have been. The rest of Ginnis's gang had been cleared out by SOLDIER the week before; Vincent never let any of his enemies live long.

And then he remembered the girl.

"Check it out, but take Raile with you," his boss continued. "It could be anything. Stay alert."

"Yes, sir. I'll report once I've found out, sir." And he hung up.

Ban Raile, thought four years Vincent's senior, had joined the Turks about the same time. The man was of medium height with shortly-cropped black hair and a stern face, which contrasted Vincent's style and smooth features. They were, however, a formidable team, with Raile's strength and Vincent's accuracy. As a pair they had never failed a mission.

Raile lived in Mordrina up on the plate; he'd grown up there his entire life, and therefore had never truly experienced the slums for all that they were. Sometime Vincent envied the man's air of detachment, as if none of the poverty and filth could touch or affect him. He was a confident man with few fears.

As they approached the bar Vincent explained the situation and the girl, Willy Trust, who had spared his life. Raile listened, appreciative of her decision but not all-together impressed. He didn't seem to realize the significance as much as his partner did; in the slums, saving a Shinra was risky business.

Satan's Closet was crowded, as none of the patrons expected any Shinra so soon after the recent incident. Vincent hesitated only a moment before entering, as any one of the seemingly uninterested drunkards could have easily pulled a gun and shot him dead at any moment. Having Raile with him, however, gave him some confidence. He moved smoothly to the bar.

"I knew you'd show up," the bar owner commented, gathering the Turks' attentions. "And you brought a friend. Need a drink?"

Both men declined. "I was sent a note yesterday," Vincent told him. "Something about unfinished business. Do you know what's going on?"

The man nodded. "I sent it. Thought it'd get your attention." He tilted his head as if to indicate one side of the room. "Take a look."

Vincent did look, and was surprised to see the teenager from the night before, huddled in the corner. Her legs were pulled in close to her chest and her head was down, covered with her arms. Her skin was covered with welts and bruises, and she was filthy. It was an all too familiar scene for Vincent. But he couldn't help but stare, feeling sorry for her. "It's my fault," he murmured.

"Sure is. When Ginnis's boss found out he was furious, not to mention drunk off his ass. Willy's been in dept for months—being with a gang leader kept them away from her, but now she's free meat." He shrugged. "Just thought you should know, Shinra boy." The bartender moved away, serving the other customers.

"So that's the girl," said Raile. He sighed. "Don't feel guilty, Vincent. We've all got our problems. Hers are her own fault. Let's go."

But Vincent didn't. Instead he moved toward the back of the small bar, and crouched beside the girl. She was wearing a greasy T-shirt and jean shorts almost too short to be considered clothing. He couldn't help but notice that there were some well-trained muscles in those legs. Forcing this distraction aside, he touched her shoulder. "Hey."

She didn't respond. Vincent frowned, wondering if she was crying. He wouldn't' know how to react to that, or what he could do to comfort her. He didn't even know why he was bothering.

But he couldn't just leave her. He shook her gently and tried again. "Willow."

The girl flinched. He could hear her sniffling, and then slowly, her head lifted. Her face was smeared with tears and dried blood but her expression was hard, as if in determination. She glared back at him with defiance. Even in the very pit of despair her eyes were fierce and alive. There was a fire in her that refused to go out, even as it slowly diminished. She refused to let the slums win over her.

"Come back to finish it?" Willy asked coldly.

Vincent pursed his lips, frowning intently. His options were few. "I'm taking you with me," he said at last. "Can you walk?"

She stared, as if not comprehending. "What do you want?"

"Just to get you out of here. Are you hungry?"

Willy nodded, her attitude fading. From the looks of it she was starving. "I can walk," she said quietly.

"Good." He took her hand, which startled her, and helped her to her feet. When she leaned against him for support he made no complaint. Though he was a bit uncomfortable in doing so, he slipped his arm around her waist to keep her steady. This small gesture seemed to earn her complete trust: she sagged against him, hiding her face in the navy material of his suit. The Turk merely cleared his throat and started for the door.

Raile caught up with them outside. "Vincent, what are you doing?" he asked, puzzled and concerned.

"I'm just taking her to get cleaned up and something to eat," Vincent replied simply. He realized then that he was receiving several more confused stares from those lining the streets; he must have made quite a sight. "Go ahead and make the report. This is what it was about."

"Oh." Raile watched him for a moment more, then shrugged, as if accepting. "Alright. But...don't let it get to you. It's not your fault."

He nodded vaguely, and continued on. Raile moved off in a different direction, his face not pleased. Vincent didn't care. He couldn't explain the sudden responsibility he felt towards this girl. It might have been duty; as one who had escaped the slums, he felt it was his obligation to help another. And this girl was unlike so many others he'd seen. She had some courage in her, of that he was sure.

Vincent led his new charge to a small diner in Venuus. The hour was late, so customers were few, and he hesitated only briefly in taking her into the women's bathroom. "I'll be outside," he told her. And then he left.

* * *

Willy stared after the strange man. She sighed to herself and returned her gaze to the mirror once he'd gone. _God, I look like hell_, she thought sourly, wiping away the blood from her lips and chin. Cleaning the dirt was a more difficult task. She tried to hurry, as the man would be waiting. _Why is he even bothering_? _I…I don't want his help_. Another weary sigh escaped her lips as she continued to uncover bruises from under the filth. How long had she been sitting in that bar? She couldn't remember. Time seemed like a strange, alien concept to her now. From within the bar she didn't even have an idea of the passage of days, let alone hours. It was all a blur.

A long, painful blur.

_He's probably just trying to get laid,_ she reasoned. _An upper-class, stuck up Shinra prick looking for a break. That's fine if he follows through with the food. I'm starving_. She finished cleaning up and took a moment to go to the bathroom before returning to the diner.

The Turk was waiting for her in one of the booths near the back. As he hadn't noticed her yet she paused to look him over. _Hmm. Nice suit. Cute guy—must be twenty-something. Dig the hair_. His hair as cut short except for his bangs, which perfectly framed his lean and handsome face_. The body's not so bad, either._ Grinning to herself she joined him.

"That's better," he remarked. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit, but not bad." Willy's eyes widened when she saw the plates of food waiting for her: a ham and cheese sandwich, a salad, a cup of soup, and a strawberry milkshake.

"I wasn't sure what you like," he said even as she'd already begun eating. "I guess it's the least I can do, considering you could have killed him."

She shrugged. "You said you didn't want to die in the slums. I can relate to that." She paused, gulping down half her shake on on breath. "Besides, I like your eyes. What's your name?"

"Vincent," he said, blinking as if startled by her sudden change in manner. She admitted silently that sometimes she amazed even herself. "Vincent Valentine."

"Excellent. So, you're a Turk?"

"Yes." Vincent sipped from a cup of coffee. "For five years."

"Really?" Willy frowned, looking him over again. He must have joined at a young age. She was struck by a sudden important question. "Were you lying before?" she asked, somewhat displeased with the solemnity in her own tone. "About…growing up in the slums?"

He paused, raising his eyes to her. They really were beautiful eyes; bright and sharp. He was hesitating. "I did grow up around Wall Market," he said at last. "Since I was twelve."

"So, you lived the hard life." She was only mildly impressed, as she'd been born and raised in the slums. "At least you've got enough sense to stay outta it." She laughed bitterly. "Me, I've always been a Slum-Baby. It sucks." She went back to eating.

The Turk gazed at her silently for a moment; questioningly, in a way that bothered her. "Why don't you leave?"

"Leave? You're smarter than that, aren't you, Vince? You can't just _leave_." Willy laughed, as if she found the whole idea very funny. But even as she did so her throat felt tight. She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "I've got no money and no place to go. You're a Shinra boy now, so you probably don't remember well. This place may be hell, but it's my home. When business picks up I'll be making good money again. Money I _earn_, not steal from the roaches I crush under my heel. Not like Shinra."

Vincent frowned. He didn't look insulted—merely thoughtful. He sipped from his beverage, his eyes cast downward, considering. She decided that he spent too much time considering. There wasn't anything to think about. It was the way the world was. She glanced out the window absently, and her eye caught sight of several men heading for the diner. She cringed_. Muller's gang. If they find me here with a Turk…_. The image her mind produced was not pleasant.

"Sorry, Vince, but I gotta go." Willy quickly scarfed as much of the leftover food as she could and washed it down with the soup broth. "It was nice talking to you. Thanks for the food." She flashed him a quick smile and a wink and headed toward the bathroom.

* * *

Vincent slid out of the booth and stood, watching her departure curiously. Before she reached the bathroom, however, three men had spotted her and wee entering the diner. Even as she started to run it was too late—the first man stepped inside and snatched her by the arm. "Well, look was we have here," he laughed.

Willy promptly kicked the man in the shin and pushed past him. Her freedom was short-lived; the second man quickly grabbed her around the waist and dragged her outside.

Vincent gave chase. By now he was obligated, almost—if anything, he owed it to her. He checked his gun and moved to the door where he could see.

"Good'ta see ya, Willy," the leader—Muller—drawled. "You owe us some money, if I recall."

"That's the downside of doing Pollen," she replied smoothly. "Can't keep your books straight."

Vincent cringed as Muller struck her across the face with the back of his hand. "Don't fuck with me, bitch," he hissed in a sudden shift of temper. "That money is _mine_. I put _my_ ass on the line to get it. When I don't get paid, then it's _your_ ass."

"At least it's a nice ass." Willy only winced as she was struck again. A thin trail of blood dribbled from her nose.

Vincent pursed his lips. He couldn't reveal himself yet—Muller's two thugs had their weapons drawn and were alert. He would be able to kill one with the first shot, but if the partner had good aim, he'd be dead before he got another chance. He would have to wait.

"C'mon, Will," Muller growled, dragging her by the arm. "We're gonna make up for the cash you owe me."

"Let go!" Willy shrieked, struggling against him. "Goddamnit, leave me alone!"

_It has to be now. If they get to far away, I'll have to come out—they'll notice. It's now_. Vincent took a deep breath to prepare. The even only took a moment. Within five seconds the Turk slipped soundlessly out the door and fired two shots. Both hit their targets perfectly. Muller whirled, gun drawn, but by then it was too late. Vincent fired a third time, striking the man clearly between the eyes. He landed on his back with a thud.

Willy gaped, stepping away from the three prone bodies. Then she laughed, and kicked Muller sharply in the side. "Filthy bastard." She turned to Vincent. "Nice shot, Vince."

Vincent surveyed his work; he always did after a mission, keeping track of his progress. The first shot was better than the second, and the third was better than both of them. He nodded to himself, pleased. "Are you all right?"

"Sure." She wiped her face, wincing at the bruises beginning to form on her cheek and jaw. "Damn, though. That hurt."

"You'd better not go back to Wall Market." Vincent glanced about the area to make sure one had witnessed the scene. "There's probably more like him. How much money did you owe?"

She frowned thoughtfully, in a way that convinced him to leave the question alone. "Never mind. Do you have a place to stay?"

"If I did," Willy replied, "I'd've been there."

"Right." The Turk considered silently. He didn't want to leave her—a lone teenager, already roughed up and wearing those clothes wouldn't last long in the slums. More than that, it was obvious she already had a reputation. There was only one thing he could think of. "Do you want to stay with me?"

The suggestion definitely perked her interest. "Well, I suppose so," she said, trying not to sound too pleased. "You live up top?"

"Yes. In Temdor. I…have a roommate, but I don't think he'll mind."

"Oh, is he cute?"

Vincent sighed, wondering what he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

Compared to the other sectors, Temdor was a decent place to live—especially one the plate. Most of the apartment and tenant houses were reserved for Shinra employees. On the third floor of such a building was a large three-bedroom apartment that had, since its creation, served only one function: to house Turks. Currently only two were residents: Vincent Valentine, and the newest Turk, Drake Tyser. Tyser was a tall, heavily-built man with a tremendous sense of humor. His carefree manner clashed with the seriousness of his comrades, something Trexim had assured would go away with time. Tyser didn't think so, and he took every opportunity to prove it.

It was no surprise, then, when he greeted the pair with, "Hullo, Jack. Finally gonna get laid?"

Willy nearly bounded into the apartment, her eyes wide and excited. "You must be Drake," she said, shaking his hand rapidly. "I'm Willy Trust. Vince didn't tell me you were so cute."

"And he didn't tell _me_ about _you_," he replied slyly, kissing her hand. She giggled. "A pleasure."

"All mine."

Vincent sighed, closing the door behind him. "She needs to stay a while," he explained. "I didn't want her to stay in the slums tonight."

Tyser grinned. "Of course. You two hungry?"

"Yes." Willy eagerly followed him into the small kitchen. "I didn't get to finish my sandwich with Vince."

Vincent shook his head, letting the pair continue together. He wasn't hungry, and it was late anyway, so he decided to retire for the night. "I'm going to bed," he informed the others, peeking inside the kitchen. Tyser was making their guest a sandwich, Willy leaning against the counter, watching him and giggling. "The bedroom on the left is open," he told her.

"Okay. Thanks." Willy gave him a smile, then returned her attention to Tyser, as if salami was the most interest thing she'd ever seen.

The Turk shrugged and kept going. He'd done enough—the girl would be safe at least one night. After that he couldn't say. Certainly letting the girl stay there wasn't an option. Even if Tyser approved, the building was owned by Shinra. Rent came directly out of their pay, and his superiors would never allow her presence. He could give her some money, but how much would be enough? If she had somehow been involved in drug smuggling-as was his assumption from the exchange between her and Muller-the size of her debts could be tremendous. And paying them would only solve one problem. She still needed food, a place to stay, maybe some better-fitting clothes...

_Why are you worrying about this so much? There are dozens just like her, and you don't give them a second glance. Why is she any different? You've already risked your life for her. Let her take care of herself_.

Vincent resolved to give Willy Trust breakfast the next morning and train fare. After that, she'd be on her own again. With that settled he changed for bed and settled in for the night.

* * *

*Notes: Vincent is 22, Tyser is 23, Willy is 18, and Raile is 26. I'm saying that, since Sephiroth is ~30 during Meteor, 30 years ago Vincent was in love with Lucretia (when he was 27). This story now is about five years before that. ^_^ (35 years before Meteor)

These first two chapters are only to introduce Willy, Tyser, and some of Vincent's attitude. The real story begins in chapter 3.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fearful Symmetry**

Chapter 2: A New Home

* * *

The next morning Vincent awoke to the sound of the shower running. Usually something like that wouldn't have disturbed him; however, Tyser never woke earlier than seven a.m., which the clock read now. He pulled on a pair of pants and investigated.

Tyser was still asleep in his room. The Turk frowned, and then he remembered their visitor. It was a bit uncomfortable knowing that a teenage girl—and an attractive one, at that—was showering in his bathroom. He moved on to the kitchen, which he found in a terrible state of disarray. It looked as if every one of his cupboards had been emptied or at least searched through. Pots and pans covered nearly every surface. As if on cue from is entrance the microwave beeped.

Vincent ventured inside bravely. There were items strewn about the tile floor that he didn't know the name of, let alone had ever used. But he did recognize the potato skins in the sink. And he could smell bacon. It was coming from the microwave, as if beckoning…

He stood there for a moment, utterly baffled and amazed by the amount of damage done during his sleep. He was about to seek out the cause when someone spoke up from behind him.

"Oh, good morning, Vince," said Willy.

Vincent turned, ready to demand an explanation; the words froze before he could speak. Willy was standing behind him, soaking wet and wrapped in a towel. _Only_ in a towel. _His_ towel.

"Sorry about the mess," she was saying. "But I couldn't find the cheese grater. Don't worry—I'll clean it up."

"Cheese grater?" He frowned. "Do we even have any cheese?"

"Well, you didn't, but you do now." She grinned and started toward the extra room. "I set up some plates in the other room. you can go ahead and eat."

Sure enough, three place settings decorated the low table in the living room. Vincent's frown increased as he wove his way through the kitchen's mess to the microwave. Inside was a casserole dish he didn't recall having, smelling of bacon and cheese. _I don't remember having any cheese. Where did she get cheese, and with what money?_ He retrieved a pair of oven mitts before attempting to remove the steaming pot, and he carried it to the living room. Even if the meal turned out to be inedible, he was curious.

"What's going on? What's that smell?" came a voice. Tyser entered, having not bothered to change. He took a seat next to his companion and surveyed the dish skeptically.

"I think it's cheese," Vincent responded.

"Cheese? Do we have cheese?"

"I…guess so." He removed the lid, revealing a rather strange-looking meal. It looked like lumpy scrambled eggs covered in bacon bits and mixed with—of course—cheese. The two men poked at it with their forks.

"It's alive," Tyser concluded deftly.

He was answered by Willy's laughter. She pranced into the room and seated herself on Vincent's other side. "Don't be silly. I'm not an excellent cook, but I can at least make this." She breathed in the aroma and sighed with satisfaction. "Mmm, delicious. C'mon, dig in." She helped herself to a plateful of the breakfast concoction."

Vincent looked her over briefly. The shower had managed to clean off all the dirt, and her hair was combed. But she wasn't wearing the same outfit as the day before: the T-shirt had been replaced with a blue tank top, and she was wearing pair of jean overalls that were ripped off at the knees. Though he appreciated the change, he wondered where it had come from. "Willy, where did you get that outfit?"

"I bought it," she replied casually between bites.

"With whose money?"

"Yours."

"This stuff's damn good!" Tyser interjected, filling his plate. "I haven't had a decent meal like this in a while."

Willy smiled. "Thanks, Tyser."

Vincent rubbed his forehead, as he was slowly developing a headache. "Willy," he said sternly. "How did you get my money?"

"Hmm? It was easy." She popped a bacon bit into her mouth. "You were asleep. I just plucked it off your dresser."

_What? She snuck into your room?_ This was particularly disturbing, as Vincent had always prided himself at being very alert. Willy had managed to steal his money, leave and come back, and turn his entire kitchen upside-down without waking him. It wasn't just embarrassing—it was dangerous. "I'd like to know how you managed that." His tone was skating the edge of anger.

Willy returned his gaze innocently. "I was quiet. Don't worry, it wasn't much; just enough for the clothes and the cheese. I put the rest back."

Tyser observed their discussion with only mild interest. "Your breakfast is getting cold," he remarked knowingly.

Vincent climbed to his feet with a frustrated sigh. "I have to report in today," he said, suddenly weary. "Willy, I appreciate your making breakfast, but don't go into my room again. Tyser will give you some money for the train, so you can go home."

"Huh?" Willy stared at him quizzically. "You're asking me to go?"

"Well, yes." He shifted awkwardly. "I saved your life and let you stay, didn't I?"

She pondered this carefully. "That's all? You mean, you didn't bring me up here for sex?"

In the space of time spent by him sputtering, Tyser took it upon himself to comment. "That might not have been his intention, but it's certainly not out of the question."

"Okay, good," was Willy's reply. "I was looking forward to it."

"No," Vincent said deftly. He crossed his arms, as if it would convey his authority better. "I just wanted to help you out."

"Sex is helpful," suggested Tyser.

"And healthy," added Willy.

The black-haired Turk shook his head emphatically. "No. I don't want-I mean, that's unnecessary." He took a deep breath. "Willy, you should go. After you've cleaned that mess in the kitchen."

"Oh." For a moment she looked disappointed; then she merely shrugged. "Okay. I'll clean up the kitchen."

"Good." Grateful that the matter had been settled, he returned to his room to change_. You've done enough_, he told himself for the hundredth time as he slipped into the white button-down shirt and navy suit. _She'll take care of herself. They all do. You did_.

But then, he'd ended up where he was now; with Shinra. He'd been given a chance most weren't, a chance to live outside the filth and violence. Willy would never have that chance. She might never have a future.

_Stop. You have work_.

When Vincent left, Tyser and Willy were still eating. He trusted them to take care of things, which may or may not have been a smart thing to do. In this state of impaired judgment he reported to Trexim and Raile, sharing his report. He left out, however, the tale of Willy's visit to his room. They didn't need to know.

He returned around noon, as the day was quiet, relatively speaking, and he had no outstanding assignments. He opened the door cautiously, almost expecting to find the girl still present. When he peeked inside, the first thing he saw was the casserole dish sitting on the table, covered in plastic wrap with a note.

Thanx©

Vincent smiled, but his expression was almost rueful. As ridiculous as it sounded, he would miss her. Even if she was just some Slum Baby, he didn't want her to grow up the way he had.

"There's no helping it." He sighed, and continued inside. "At least now things are back to normal." As if to assure himself of her departure, he opened the door to the extra room.

_I should have known_. Willy hadn't left after all. She was standing in the center of the room, admiring herself in the mirror. She was wearing yet another new outfit, this one comprised of brilliant pink jean shorts, and a white T-Shirt with a pink heart printed across the chest. When she noticed Vincent in the corner of the reflection, she turned. "Oh, hi Vince. Do you think I need a headband with this?"

"I asked you to leave," he stated. His earlier thoughts were replaced with annoyance.

"Well, I gave that some thought." She retrieved a pink headband and returned to modeling. "You see, for about seven seconds I was saving your life by not shooting you: from the moment I pulled the gun on you, to when you pulled the second gun on me."

"At Satan's Closet."

"Yes. Of course, you saved my life by not shooting me, but once we were both in trouble it stopped counting, because that was self-interest."

Vincent frowned. "Continue." _What does this have to do with it?_

"You saved my life with Muller's gang. Then we were equal. You bought me food, and I made you breakfast: again we're equal."

"I didn't eat your breakfast."

She shrugged. "Still, I offered. And there's some left, if you're hungry." Before he could speak he went on. "Anyway, you let me stay. I thought that maybe it meant that I owed you. But hen I realized where I was." She motioned to the room significantly. "The Turks Lair. Do you now how many people would _kill_ to know where you guys hang? I could get enough money to repay my debts. But all night and all morning I didn't tell anyone." She turned and flashed him a bright smile. "So, we're even. And if I stay and don't tell, we're still even. I'm paying the rent with silence."

The Turk shook his head, though silently he admitted that she was right. He had taken quite a risk in bringing her here. "Alright. But where did you get those clothes. I told you—"

"They're from Tyser. Do you like them?" Willy spun in a circle and giggled. "Please just let me stay a little longer," she said. "I won't be a bother—I'll cook, and clean, which is more than what I owe you anyway. You've got nothing to lose."

He sighed, feeling the return of his headache. "Okay," he gave in. "But just for a while."

* * *

Vincent awoke once again to the sound of the shower running, as he had every day for the past two weeks. He didn't understand why anyone would shower in the morning. Didn't it make more sense to shower after a hard-working day? Because Willy would always shower again before a date, anyway….

By the time Vincent was allowed in his bathroom the room was filled with steam. He stepped carefully to the mirror and cleared a circle big enough sot hat he could see his face.

He looked tired.

Vincent reached for his toothbrush—now there were three set beside the sink. Finding the toothpaste wasn't so simple. He dug through mascara, lipstick, nail polish, and a bottle of something unrecognizable before finding the tube. He realized just in time that it was pimple cream.

Vincent paused in his morning routine to survey what had once been his bathroom. There was expensive herbal shampoo in his shower. In the corner lay a pile of woman's bikini underwear and black fishnet stockings. A box of tampons was mounted—almost proudly—atop the toilet.

And the seat was down.

He couldn't tolerate that.

"Willow!" Vincent marching into the kitchen, his jaw set, determined to be firm. He would not allow this to continue. He was going to kick her out.

"I'm right here. you don't have to yell." Willy was standing in front of the stove, dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and shorts. She was making scrambled eggs. "And don't call me Willow."

"Don't you think you've been here long enough?" He didn't like how his mission had begun—he would have to be more stern with her. "I think it's time you go home."

"Breakfast is done!" she announced, scraping the eggs onto plates. She placed the pan in the sink. "Do you want some, Vince?"

"I'm not hungry," he said, even as he accepted the plate she gave to him.

"Okay. Hey, Tyser!" As if having not heard his earlier statement she brushed past him and into the living room. "Chow time!" Tyser responded to her call almost instantly, joining her at the table.

Vincent stared at the eggs he was carrying, then set them aside. He gathered his courage and followed. "Willy," he tried again, "we have to talk."

"I'm listening," she replied, watching him with interest.

"It's about our living arrangements," he began a bit awkwardly. "You've been here for two weeks. You should go."

"Go? Where?"

"Go home."

"What home?"

He inhaled through his nose distastefully. "We can't keep supporting you," he came up with. "You've got no money, and somehow you continue to come up with these new outfits. There are things in my bathroom I can't bring myself to touch let alone identify. You need to go."

The scene was beginning to resemble one that that had taken place two weeks earlier. Willy was watching him, her eyes curious and innocent. She seemed to have no intention of leaving. He was about to invent some more reasons when she abruptly finished her breakfast and stood. "Tyser, can you take care of the dishes this time? Vince and I have to talk."

"Sure," the blonde replied easily.

"Come on." Willy took Vincent by the hand and led him out of the living room, into the room she'd been using. Once inside she closed the door behind her. "I don't want to go," she said, still facing away from Vincent. He was startled by her sudden change of tone to seriousness. "I don't want to go back to the slums."

"I told you it was only for a while," said Vincent. "I'm sorry, but there's not much I can do. You don't have a job, or any income. We can't take care of you forever."

She spun around. "I'll be a Turk!" she exclaimed. "I can do the stuff you guys do."

"What? Impossible." The doubt clearly reflected in his face. "Being a Turk takes training, and skill, and quick thinking."

"But I can do that," Willy insisted. "You saw me at Satan's Closet. I can shoot—I was part of Ginnis's gang, after all." Her speech began to quicken. "I'm eighteen—I can take care of myself. I know the risks. I know all the slum hangouts." She snatched the Turk's hand. "I even know some of their codes. Ginnis's gang was part of a group of Anti-Shinra. Did you know that? We could—"

"No." His decision came with more force than he'd intended. His hands tightened around hers to stress how serious he was. "I don't want you to be a Turk. You don't know what its like."

"I don't care what it's like." Willy met his gaze directly; she looked desperate. There was a bit of fear in her eyes. "You know I can do it. I can learn."

_No, that's not it_. Vincent ground his teeth in frustration. Being a Turk changed people; it changed the way they saw things, changed the way they thought. He'd seen it happen to too many idealistic youths. This girl had such an optimism despite her origins; such a love of life, that he didn't want to see her change.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "You don't want to be a Turk," he told the girl firmly. He hoped that, somehow, she would understand his concern. "It's not an easy life."

"Do you really think I care?" Willy retorted, shrugging him off. "I grew up in the slums! What could be more terrifying than that?"

"But—"

She leaned forward, planting a kiss full on his lips. Vincent started, as suddenly her arms were around his neck. She was stronger than she looked. He quickly re-gathered his wits before that thought could continue, pushing her back. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't this what you want?" the girl asked, a strange expression on her face. She started to take off her sweatshirt.

He stopped her immediately. "No, Willy. I don't want to sleep with you. That's not why I helped you."

"Never say that to a girl—it drives us crazy." She pushed him—hard, so that he tripped and fell to the floor. In his momentary confusion she forced him onto his back and kissed him again, more fiercely.

But Vincent didn't kiss her back. He restrained any emotions he might have been feeling, refusing to give in as easily as that. He twisted, rolling her under him, her wrists pinned to the floor. "Do you really think this will change anything?" he demanded. "What the hell are you doing?"

Willy stared up at him. Something had already changed in her eyes; a wall had been taken down. She was trembling, and afraid. It wasn't him, though, that she feared. And suddenly Vincent felt as if he'd been gazing into a mirror all along. He could read her feelings like a page in a book; she was lost, and confused, and frightened, as if she'd seen the future she was heading inescapably from. Just as he had once been.

Vincent relinquished his hold, allowing her to sit up. "I'm sorry," he offered, at a loss for anything else. All his earlier frustration and annoyance had been replaced with sympathy.

Willy shook her head slowly. "No, I'm the one that's sorry. Really sorry." She caught her bottom lip with her teeth to keep it from trembling. For a moment they simply stay that way, silent, until she suddenly declared, "I don't know what I'm doing. Just trying to get laid, I guess. It's my nature." She started to get up.

Vincent took her arm and kept her close. Quickly he wracked his brain for some appropriate comfort. He remembered when a fellow Turk had pulled him out of the slums, and what that man had said. "Willow," he told her quietly, "don't be ashamed. You don't deserve to be down there. You…can stay here. As long as you like."

"Really?" She gazed at him hopefully. He had discovered what she wanted most of all. "You're not mad?"

To this he smiled. "I'll get over it."

Willy grinned back, but even as she did so tears began to roll down her cheeks. She turned away, hoping to wipe them away before he saw. "Thank you," she whispered hoarsely. Her laughter mixed with quiet sobs. "Thank you."

The Turk sighed, placing a hand on her back as a steady reminder of his presence. When she'd calmed down somewhat he helped her to sit on the bed. "I have to go to work," he told her. "But I think Tyser has the day off. You two can take a break, do some shopping. I won't be back until late."

"Okay." Willy wiped the remnants of her tears on her sleeve. "Thanks."

Vincent smiled and left the room. He felt…proud. He'd done something worthwhile. On the way out he gave Tyser some money. "Willy's going to be staying her for a while longer," he said. "Buy something for her, won't you? Like a clothes hamper or something."

Tyser laughed. His comrade could tell, however, that he agreed with the decision.

Vincent met Trexim and Raile at the Turks office in the central Shinra building. He wasted no time in explaining his suggestion. "I want to sponsor a new Turk."

"There's usually not more than four," Trexim mused, sitting at his desk with paperwork spread before him. "How old?"

"Eighteen, sir," he replied crisply.

"Kind of young."

"Older than me when I joined, sir."

Trexim nodded knowingly. "You've never sponsored a Turk before, have you?"

"That's correct." Vincent hesitated. "But I have faith in this one. She has—"

"She?" Railed interrupted. He was leaning against the desk, arms folded. "You're sponsoring a woman? Not that girl from the bar…?"

"Her name is Willow Trust," he explained before his boss could form his own opinion. "She grew up in the slums. She's got a good eye and a lot of sense—you heard my report. She has much potential."

The Senior Turk considered the situation carefully. "Are you involved with her?" he asked bluntly."

"No, sir," Vincent replied at once. "But I do feel a bit responsible for her. And she could have betrayed me several times."

"We've never had a female Turk," Raile said thoughtfully.

"But I know she's up to it," he insisted.

Trexim released a sigh. "All right," he consented. "But she'll have to go through all the regular training. I trust your judgment, Valentine. I hope you picked a good one."

Vincent managed to keep his relief from showing too obviously. "Thank you, sir."

"I'll tell General Sines myself. Now, you two have a job today in Sector Four…."

* * *

As Vincent had said, he didn't return to the apartment until long after dark. He was exhausted from that day's work. Tyser was waiting up for him, sitting on the arm of the sofa. "Hey," he greeted softly, motioning toward the figure curled on the couch, asleep. "She was going to wait up, but…."

Vincent couldn't help but smile despite himself. Willy was wearing Tyser's navy suit jacket; while asleep, she looked disarmingly cute. When he glanced about the apartment, he noticed that he was in a much better state than he'd seen it in years. "Looks like you two were busy."

"Thanks for noticing," Tyser muttered. "We cleaned the whole damn apartment—even the bathroom—because she insisted. The place has never looked so good." He pushed to his feet and yawned. "We just wanted to make sure you made it back okay. I'm off to bed." He met his partners gaze, and there was a glint of seriousness there. "She's a good girl. She'd make a hell'uv'a Turk."

Vincent nodded. "That she would."

"Anyway, G'night." Tyser yawned again and disappeared into his room.

After he'd gone Vincent sighed, staring down at the girl asleep on his sofa_. I wonder if I made the right decision_ he thought to himself. Looking at her made him realize that he had. The navy suit jacket somehow looked…right…on her. She would be able to survive, to keep her bright spirit in spite of the heart-dulling business. Surly, she wouldn't make his mistakes.

Vincent sat down on the couch beside her. Having sensed his presence, Willy shifted so that she was leaning against him. Her arm draped across his stomach. It was a strange feeling for Vincent, as he hadn't been so close to another person for a long time. But, strangely, he didn't mind. He felt more than responsible for her. He felt like her friend.

Vincent smiled to himself, shifting into a more comfortable position. Willy instantly adjusted, sighing contentedly in her sleep. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine what his life would be like from now on. But trying wasn't enough; his new roommate was unpredictable before anything else, and when he realized this he sighed. He resolved to let the future come to him as it would, and fell into slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

Fearful Symmetry

Chapter 3: Korben's Deck

*This is five years after the first two chapters. Willy is now a Turk, and Raile has replaced Trexim as the boss.

*Okay, I know Korben doesn't read tarot cards correctly. I did some research, and decided I didn't like the way normal tarot cards function, so I let him make up his own procedure. It's more direct this way.

* * *

Drake Tyser raised his arms over his head and stretched, yawning loudly as he strolled leisurely through the darkened streets of Sector Seven. "So this is the lovely Sereim," he said to himself, allowing his bored gaze to wander about the dully scenery. "The Slums certainly aren't much to look at. What a waste." Still, there might at least be a worthwhile bar to visit, or a couple women willing to spend an evening. The garbage-laden streets, broken-down buildings, and sunless alleys weren't enough to crush his spirits.

"After we're done here," the man at his side reminded him, as if having plucked the very thoughts from his brain.

"Damnit, why do you always do that?" He ran a hand through his shoulder length, dirty-blond hair. "Stop reading my mind. It's eeire."

"I'm not reading your mind," the younger man protested mildly, staring straight ahead. "I'm simply—"

"I know, I know. You're simply anticipating my train of thought."

Korben Jay arched a superior eyebrow. "See, you can do it, too."

Tyser growled in mock frustration. "Let's just get this over with," he muttered, finally focusing on their task. "Have you been briefed?"

"No. It's more interesting that way."

_Damn him and his sarcasm_, the elder thought with a taint of bitterness. At twenty-five years, Korben Jay was a sharp-minded and ever sharper-tongued man, and a Turk for the past two years. Though no one could deny his skill as a sniper, his superiors didn't quite care for his cool, casual approach to his missions. One day his luck would not be there to take care of him.

"We're gang leaders," Tyser began to outline their mission. "Or Mafia men, or whatever you like. I'm sure you'll play your own hand."

Korben snorted at one of his superior's many over-used card analogies. "Naturally." He brushed back a strand of his straggly black hair.

"Our target's a jittery one, all-and-out paranoid, probably armed. I'm playing hearts on this one—when he follows suit, you trump." Tyser intended to draw the target out into the open, from where a clear, uninterrupted shot could be taken by Korben.

"Someday I'm going to enter your gibberish as an official code," he responded, pulling a pair of headphones out of his collar and over his ears. He adjusted the main devise in his pocket, and the muffled beat of some techno rap song escaped the speakers. Tyser rolled his eyes; by now he knew better than to question his partner's methods. Somehow, it always worked out.

The object of their stroll soon appeared ahead of them: a small weapon's shop with a green neon sign. Tyser paused at the window to check his reflection and straighten his navy suit. "Not bad," he murmured, taking note of the many advanced models locked in display cases and mounted on the walls. His eye was drawn to a small handgun on the left wall, and he smirked. It was the same model and series as the weapon stuffed in his belt.

Korben went first, head nodding in time with the music-if one could call it that. He surveyed the small shop, expressed his approval with a grunt, and moved to inspect the display cases. Tyser had to admit that his companion's act was convincing. He followed, striding confidently to the front desk. "Hey, anyone in?" He tapped the bell.

A man emerged from the back room. He was a short, gangly fellow with wide-set, protruding eyes and dark, unkempt hair. His clothing was dirty and patched in several places. As he approached the desk, the flaps of his vest swung for a moment, revealing a handgun in its holster.

"Good, some service." Tyser folded his hands and leaned against the desk. "I'm aiming to buy. Looks like you've got some nice models here."

The man's eyes swung over his supposed customer; Tyser wondered what kind of impression he was making with his sloppy hair, stubble beard, and navy suit. "You're a Turk," the man declared once his evaluation was complete.

"Best of the best," the blonde affirmed, immediately switching strategies. He reached into his suit and removed his gun, and though the action at first caused the owner to reach for his own weapon, he relaxed once it was placed on the desk. "My Hand is acting up," he explained. "Took her apart—couldn't figure it out. Maybe you'll have a look."

"Thought you were buying," the man said suspiciously.

"I will be if you can't fix her."

_He's not buying it_. Tyser was about to refigure his plan again when the owner reached out, picking up the weapon. His hands moved over it, testing the weight and inspecting the serial number. "There's a gun just like this on the wall over there," he said, nodded his head. "This gun looks like it's past its prime."

Korben was bending over one of the cases, his face inches from the polished glass. He appeared perfectly content in simply examining the store wares. Tyser wondered if he was even paying attention to their exchange. "You mind if I check it?" he asked of the owner.

"Go ahead."

Tyser moved to the wall, considering what approach might work to get his quarry outside the shop. If they were going to do this job quietly, it would be best to get him open. It would be too dangerous to begin a shooting match inside the gun store. Glancing about at the different models, the Turk began to understand why his superior had warned him about such an event: all the weapons were loaded, top issue Shinra-produced firearms_. He sure as able to smuggle out a lot. No wonder he's wanted._

He heard the click of a rifle being cocked, and the next moment the explosive percussion of a single gunshot broke the stillness of the slum shop. Tyser whirled around, having snatched one of the handguns of the wall to replace his own weapon. By then he was already too late. The storeowner was missing from his position at the counter; in his place was a splatter of blood and gore on the far wall.

Korben hummed thoughtfully to himself. "Not bad," he mused, looking over the rifle he'd used to slay the man with approval. He returned it to its spot on the wall and moved to inspect his kill.

Tyser heaved a sigh, replacing his own gun. "Damnit, you scared me." He shook his head. "Didn't I say hearts?"

"It wasn't working," he replied simply, pushing the headphones off his ears so that they dangled around his neck. "There's no way you could have talked him outside. He was eyeing you like a hawk."

"Yeah, but…"

The store's door-mounted bell announced the entrance of a customer. Tyser glanced over his shoulder carelessly, and was a bit surprised to see another of his navy-suited comrades. "Shot him with his own gun," the newcomer said thoughtfully. "Awfully cold-hearted."

"I prefer ironic," Korben rejoined, bending over the body.

"Poetic, but reckless." Vincent Valentine ventured further into the store, checking the scene with a calm, trained eye. "The man had a loaded gun in his hand. If he hadn't been so fixated on Tyser, you'd be dead."

He snorted. "I'm still here, aren't I? It was a clear shot, and I took it."

"Next time, listen to Tyser's call." Vincent turned to the blond man. "Sorry for showing up like this, but Raile asked me to keep an eye on you two."

"Yeah, yeah." Though Tyser wasn't pleased at having been tracked, secretly he was relieved that Raile was looking out for him. Though missions with Korben always worked out, they rarely went as planned.

Korben passed between the pair, handing Tyser's gun to him. "Here. Is that all? You were the one so eager to get back to your social life."

"Uh, yeah. We can leave the body—somebody'll find it." He shrugged, and they exited the shop together.

Vincent shook his head as he followed them into the chilly, foul-smelling air of the slums. Later he would reflect upon the night's events and wish he'd reported Korben's behavior. For now, however, he let the incident go without comment. As the most experienced of the trio he'd seen many Turks come and go; Korben would soon lose his impulsive attitude, as the others always did. The first bullet to hit his gut would sober him quick enough. Until then, Vincent could only hope that Korben Jay's skill and sharp mind would keep him alive, at least.

* * *

"Turks." The President of Shira Inc, a balding, squattish man in his late forties, leaned over his desk as he spoke. His eyes, forever squinted and sharp, regarded them carefully beneath a pair of thick eyebrows. "Though it pains me to admit it, I'm satisfied with your work." "Satisfied" was the largest compliment anyone could receive from this stolid perfectionist. "Your performance outside your designated duties makes me believe the money I spent on your training was perhaps worth it. Expect to receive more assignments in the future."

"Thank you, sir." Ban Raile, the Turks' leader, answered for all of them. "We rather enjoy the variety, sir."

The President's brow furrowed. "I don't pay you to enjoy yourselves, Mr. Raile." Before he could respond, his superior continued. "But as long as you can do what you're told, it makes no difference to me. You are dismissed."

The five Turks bowed their heads simultaneously, and then moved soundlessly as a single unit out the door. Once outside, however, their composure shattered. "Can you believe that?" Tyser exclaimed, and then was quickly hushed by his comrades. "Did he actually admit to being _pleased_ with us for once?"

Willow Trust, the single female of their group, placed her hands on her hips. "I say it's about time. We're always cleaning up after SOLDIER and the army—we deserve credit." She flipped back a lock of her brunette hair, which now reached far down her back.

"Don't get cocky," Vincent advised. "We—"

"Oh, lighten up." Tyser slung his arm over the man's shoulder—quite a feat, considering their relative heights. The blond may have been the bulkier of the pair, but his superior was taller by far. "You're always like that—can't you admit we did good?" He dragged his captive into the elevator, the others close behind. "Come on—let's go back and play some cards."

"All you do is play cards," Willy protested. "Can't we go to a real bar for once?"

"Why, so you can pick up a cute waiter? This is _our_ celebration."

They returned to the third-story, three-bedroom apartment in Sector Two. Vincent, Korben, Tyser, and Willy shared the suite, as Raile lived with his wife and family in Sector Three. Willy was often questioned as to whether she regretted her choice of living arrangements. She classically responded, "Having three gorgeous men at my disposal makes up for any inconvenience."

Presently Willy passed out a round of beers, though only Tyser and herself ultimately had any. She scrounged about the kitchen and unearthed a bag of pretzels, slightly stale. None of them minded, taking seats in the small living area surrounding the television. The night passed pleasantly enough, with the usual cards games (at Tyser's insistence), remote-battles, casual banter and mini snack fights. Such a display of childness would have never been accepted by their superiors, but for a while, at least, no one cared. Even Vincent. He laughed along with his friends; an act only the four of them had the privilege to see.

By the time the clock struck a new day, however, the group was looking for a more sensible medium of entertainment. In desperation they turned to Korben, who had slipped away from the impromptu festivities to shuffle through a deck of cards. "I hope he doesn't intend to start another gin game," Raile complained. "I've had enough cards to last me a decade."

"They're not playing cards," Korben replied, arranging his cards into a deck. "They're like Tarot cards, but better."

"Tarot?" Tyser repeated curiously. "Like telling fortunes and stuff?"

"I didn't think you believed in fate," Vincent remarked.

To this the younger man chuckled ironically. "Fate may be the _only_ thing I believe in." He returned to his place in their circle, proudly displaying his collection. "This deck I made myself."

Willow snatched the top card and studied it. "You _made_ this?" she echoed incredulously, marveling at the precise, highly detailed lines and shadings. The back of each card was printed with the same design: dark, desolated scenery of twisted metal and broken glass. "What is this?"

"My special Midgar Edition," Korben explained, retrieving the item from her. "I call it 'Hell on Earth.'"

His companions exchanged glances, but only Raile chose to speak. "You really think Midgar's that awful of a place?"

He shrugged. "Hell is a place of misery and dejection, feeding off the souls it gathers. Midgar is the same, feeding off Mako. It's not morbid—it's common sense."

"As long as you get it, I guess," Tyser mumbled. "Well, you gonna tell our fortunes or not?"

Korben looked at his cards, then his friends. "Sure. Who's game?"

"Read Raile's fortune," Vincent suggested. "He's the most predictable."

Raile made a disconcerted face, unsure if the remark was a compliment or an insult. "You know I don't believe in this," he protested. "Fate and such."

Tyser shrugged. "Neither do we. Go on."

"It won't work if you don't really believe." Korben cleared off the table for his workspace. Though his face was still only vaguely interested, they could sense a certain degree of seriousness in his manner. "Fate only speaks to those whom are willing to follow it."

Willy and Tyser exchanged in dubious looks. "Read mine," the former volunteered. "I believe you." She was lying, but her curiosity was too much.

Korben looked her over, sweeping a lock of stringy black hair from his face. His dark eyes met hers. For the first time that she could remember his gaze unnerved her, as if he were seeing something other than her face. A moment later the strange glare passed, and he shrugged. "If you say so. But trust me; it won't work if you don't believe."

"I do, I do. Deal me in."

Korben shuffled the cards, mumbling something under his breath, then asked for her to shuffle. Their audience became hushed, entranced by a strange, intangible spell. They leaned in close like excited schoolchildren despite their age. "Now take the first card and look at it," he instructed.

Willy set her hand on the top card, keeping it there for a moment to build suspense. At last she turned it over.

The cared was illustrated with amazing skill, with all the eerie detail and twisting shapes one would come to expect from a magical item. The picture was one of black robes that billowed about the pale, twisted form of a man with pure white hair. Though the limbs escaping the cloak were thin and bony, the face was flawlessly formed and quite handsome. Rising from behind the man was a single, white-feathered wing.

"Amphorus," Korben snorted, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Told you it wouldn't work."

"Why not?" Willy demanded. "What does this card mean?"

"Amphorus, the one-winged angel I created, represents immortality." He set the card back in the deck.

"So I'll live forever?" she said hopefully.

"It means I can't red your fortune." He began to shuffle the deck once more. "Whenever I try to read someone who doesn't believe, they always pull Amphorus."

Tyser frowned in disappointment. "Maybe you're stacking the deck."

"Yeah, or maybe she was," he shot back lightly. "Unconsciously."

The room was silently thoughtful for a minute as everyone considered this. Sitting at one edge of the couch, Vincent watched as the cards slipped over each other. His attention had been captured fully by the strange, intricate designs. "Read my fortune," he said quietly. "I believe in fate."

Korben stopped shuffling, shrugged, and handed the cards over. "Sure. Shuffle and then pull the top card."

"If this will work for anyone," Raile remarked, "it will for Vincent. This should be interesting."

Vincent moved to sit on the floor, across the table from his would-be sage. The group's spirits rose again in suspense as he took great care in handling the hand-made cards. After some time he stopped, placed the deck down, and removed the top card. He set it face-up on the table.

Korbed looked, half-expecting to see the same white-haired man; he was surprised and pleased to find himself faced with a woman wrapped in red lace and nothing else. "Well, Wha'd'ya'know? It's Rose, symbol of forbidden love."

"Love?" Tyser laughed, punching Vincent in the shoulder. "Didn't think Romance was in ol'Jack's agenda. He sure picked a hot dame, though."

Willy elbowed him sharply, making a face. Raile managed to calm them down before an argument could begin. "Is that all?" he asked. "How far can you read?"

"I usually read until I pull the Lifestream Card," Korben replied. "That's death. Shall we continue?"

Vincent nodded, watching the card as if expecting the woman to come alive on the paper. He over-turned the next card, and then Korben indicated for him to flip some more. "Get at least four out here so I can get a better idea." He looked them over critically, a bit perplexed. "Rose, Angus, Vortex, and Exodus," he named each card. "Rose is the card of new, forbidden love—someone untouchable, or inaccessible. Angus is violent separation. Usually I'd say the death of a family member or lover, but since it follows Rose it could mean you have a bad break up. She'll probably lay you down flat."

"Do you really believe any of this?" Tyser asked abruptly. "Somehow I can't picture this happening to our Jack o' Spades, here."

"Maybe you should change it to Jack of Hearts," Raile suggested.

Vincent glanced at them over his shoulder, and surprised them by smiling. "You don't have to take it seriously."

"Do you?"

He shrugged, though his attention to the predictions was obvious to all of them. "Let's hear the rest. Then I'll decide whether or not I believe."

Korben went one once they'd settled. "Vortex represents intense emotional stress and indecision—angst over your affair. Anger, depression, resolution, or something along those lines. And Exodus represents a journey to a conclusion. You get yourself together and make a decision. You travel a great distance."

The next card was a picture of two dragons, jaws gaping to how blood-stained teeth and claws locked in combat. "Dragon Twins Mreg and Germ. Represents confrontation, maybe even a physical battle." He paused, reflecting on the other cards. "Maybe a Turk assignment," he said, pointing to the Exodus card. "Maybe you're relocated, and put on a dangerous assignment. Next card, please."

Vincent obeyed, his face growing more serious. The moment the next card was laid, Korben caught his breath and leaned back. "That's…Chaos," he murmured with wide, disbelieving eyes. "But…."

"What's wrong?" asked Willy. "You made it, right?"

He nodded slowly. His thin fingers traced over the lines: it was the image of a devil with a wide, hideous face, thick limbs and spread bat-wings. The only color other than black was the creature's intense red eyes. "Chaos was one of my first," he began quietly, truthfully startled by the symbol's appearance. "I created it after my father's death to represent a fate worse than anything a human can conceive. Losing one's mind…complete isolation…." His eyes met Vincent's briefly, almost fearfully. "The realization of your every nightmare. No one's ever turned this card before."

"That's understandable, if it's as terrible as you say," Vincent replied calmly. Though he'd managed to keep his composure, any close observer would be able to see that he was shaken somewhat. "Is that all?"

"Let's stop," Willy spoke up. She was staring at the card with wide eyes, as if entranced. "That's enough. It's stupid, anyway."

But Vincent turned the next card anyway; it was Amphorus again. Korben's brow furrowed, trying to determine the meaning of this new vagary. "Amphorus never appears in a real fortune," he mused. "What the hell is going on?"

"I've had enough." Willy stood and began to quickly gather the leftover bottles and pretzel bags. "It's just a bunch of spooky crap anyway."

"Yeah," Tyser piped up, laughing to break the stillness in the room. The tension began to lift. "Nothing like that's gonna happen to our Jack—that's ridiculous." He elbowed Raile. "Told ya' he stacked the deck." In case Korben attempted to protest, he followed Willy's cleaning example and continued talking. "I told Gavin we'd meet him tomorrow—is that okay?"

"Can't," Raile answered, catching on. They were all escaping the subject as quickly as possible. "Promised my wife a nice dinner out—the kids are out for once."

"Hoping to score? I always told you married life would ruin you."

"You won't think that forever."

The two men moved off, still talking and laughing. Willy was about to join their conversation when she noticed that Korben and Vincent hadn't moved from their spots at the short table. The former was bent over his cards, trying to determine the meaning of this new arrangement. Vincent was watching silently, his gaze on the figure of the red-eyed beast. His hand reached for the abandoned deck.

Korben stopped him. "Don't. Not until I figure this out." He picked up the entire deck and displayed the bottom card: a swirling matrix of iridescent, emerald tendrils. "Lifestream. As far as this deck's concerned, you're immortal."

"Hey guys, cut it out," Willy interrupted. "You're always scaring us like that with your ghost stories, Korben. Lay off the spooky stuff."

Korben shrugged innocently, at once losing his air of mystified disbelief. "Yeah, okay. You guys could never handle it anyway." He collected his cards, only pausing a moment when retrieving Chaos. He shuffled the deck and moved off as if nothing had happened.

Vincent took longer in collecting himself, his movements slow as if afraid of disturbing the remnants of Korben's spell. When Willy touched his arm he started. "You okay, Vince?" she asked.

"Yes." He took a deep breath, forcing out his anxiety. "Sorry, Willow, I—"

She punched his shoulder. "Willy," she insisted. "We've been living together for five years and you still can't get it right?"

He was momentarily thrown by her sudden change in subjects. Then he smiled. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't let this get to me."

"Damn right." She stood up on her tiptoes-for he was several inches taller-and kissed his cheek as she often did. "Korben does it on purpose to scare us. And even if you do believe in fate, that doesn't mean he knows what he's doing. He _made_ those cards, after all."

"Yes, I know." Vincent began to straighten up the room. "I'm fine."

"Good. So, are you going to meet Gavin with us tomorrow?" She moved toward the kitchen.

He called after her, "I'm afraid not. I have an assignment tomorrow."

"Don't you mean today? It's after midnight."

"Oh." He glanced at the clock. "So it is."

Willy emerged from the kitchen once more, flicking off the lights. "I guess Raile left already. I'm going to bed—don't worry about the rest of the cleaning. I'll take care of it in the morning."

"Sure. Goodnight.

"G'night, Vince."


	4. Chapter 4

**Fearful Symmetry**

Chapter 4: Rose

The next day Willy had all but forgotten the disturbing prediction from the night before. With grim determination she faced the battleground that was their kitchen, clinging to her courage. She rolled up her sleeves and began her assault on the ever-growing force of dirty dishes.

By the time Tyser pulled himself out of bed a breakfast of friend eggs and slightly burnt toast awaited him at the table. He thanked her through mouthfuls. "What's the occasion?"

"We're meeting Gavin today," she replied enthusiastically. Her eyes clearly displayed a glimmer of mischief. "I don't mind being insulted in front of him, as long as it's not my cooking."

"Husband-hunting today?"

"Always." She set out two more plates. "But a passionate, three-month purely physical affair would suit me fine."

Tactfully, her friend declined comment. It was then that Korben joined them, puzzled that a meal had been prepared for him. "I was planning on orange juice," he said, staring at his plate.

"And I was planning on beer," replied Tyser, "but when Willy's in heat, we all come off good."

Willy promptly smacked him in the back of his head, muttering, "You're just jealous." But she was still smiling and in a good mood, and he motioned behind her back as if to say he'd been correct. Korben shook his head and finally accepted the free food.

Willy glanced about curiously. "Hey, where's Vinnie? Isn't he eating?"

"He left over an hour ago on assignment," Korben answered.

"Oh well. His loss. Did you tell him where we were going?"

"I told him to meet us in Rolligm for lunch."

"Good." She finished her own breakfast quickly, and collected their dishes to be cleaned. "That's the last time I cook for a while, unless Gavin stays for dinner. I hope you enjoyed it."

Tyser laughed. "Anything's better than ol' Jack 'o Spades's cooking."

"That wasn't much of a compliment."

The trio laughed together, then separated to complete their morning rituals. Willy was the first ready, and she ushered her companions swiftly out the door. They took the train to Sector Four—few people still referred to the sector by its original name, Rolligm. As the plate in that Sector had not yet been completed, stray sunlight filtered lazily through the construction beams and gave light to the streets. Willy couldn't help but smile as she disembarked from the train; Rolligm was far more pleasant than the shadowed, polluted, and desolate Sector Seven. The crime was relatively low, and moral was high. Unfortunately, her occupation wasn't in this place, keeping her from enjoying one of Midgar's last bearable districts.

Gavin Frekes was waiting for them in the schoolyard, balanced on top of a child's climbing structure. He was a well-built man in his mid-twenties, though a bit slimmer than others of his age and position. As a member of SOLDIER, Third Class, he was able to hold his lofty position with absolute stillness and little effort, testimony to his training of only two years.

Willy, however, was more interested in his slender, boyish good looks. His features were smooth and his dusty-brown hair slicked back. His eyes, once hazel, now gleamed like amber with the effects of his SOLDIER treatments, giving his entire face a kind of cheerful glow. Willy nearly skipped into the playground, grinning as one of the students might have. "Hello!" she called brightly.

Gavin smiled at her approach, leaping from the structure with perfect grace. He braced himself as the woman lunged, her arms wrapped around his neck. He grunted with the impact. "You're in a good mood," he observed.

"Only because you have the day off," she replied, always quick with the wit. Her eyes sparked mischievously. "And the night."

"We'll see." He raised his attention to the pair trailing behind. "Hey Tyser, Jay."

Korben snorted—Gavin was the only person he knew that called him by his last name. "Hey, Ace!" Tyser greeted heartily in his stead, using his card nickname, as was only ordinary for him. "They feeding you okay?

Gavin laughed, clapping the man's back. Tyser never allowed him to forget that the Turks were responsible for his quick enrollment in Shinra's most elite troops. "Yeah, Tyser. They're taking care of me."

"Good. Let's go shoot some hoops."

* * *

Vincent leaned his back against the glass of the elevator. In his earlier years he'd spent these moments near the door, watching the view of the city as she slowly rose above it. It was almost mystifying, knowing that only a layer of glass separated him from a nearly forty-story drop. Such thoughts motivated most visitors to stand near the door. But now Vincent trusted the smooth surface against his back, even if it was a bit spooky.

The job of the Turks was to find and suggest candidates for Shinra's SOLDIER, a group of the strongest men in the world. At least, that was their _official_ job. Within this truth lay another, deeper duty: reconnaissance, assassination, and kidnapping missions also found their way onto their leader's voice mail. But Vincent was on a different kind of assignment. Every time a new employee was raised to a position of power, a Turk was sent to make a report. Besides the usual history and personal files on each of Shinra's worker, there was another evaluation. It would be seen only by the Turks for their own purposes. The reason for this was that though Shinra was the largest, most powerful company known to the planet, employee loyalty wasn't very high. Every so often someone would gain too much power too quickly—as the gun shop owner had—and try to set out alone. That was when the Turks stepped in. It was Tyser's earlier report on the gun shop owner from the night before that had aided them in tracking and eliminating the man.

But such unlimited power within the company came with a price. Turk selection was very meticulous, given the amount of classified information at their disposal. No more than five existed at a time. And if one of them were to turn in the direction of their subjects, the punishments were severe.

The elevator halted, and Vincent stepped out onto the Science Offices floor. According to his superior, Professor Gast of the Science Department had hired a new research assistant, Dr. Karlauv, and he was to write up his report. The addition was in preparation for a very large, very expensive project that would have to be carefully monitored, especially by Turks. The President never overlooked the potentially dangerous power of knowledge.

In other words, Vincent was about to begin a long day of questioning and observation. With a sigh he entered the office newly labeled "Karlauv," and there received his first view of his new responsibility.

He admitted that it wasn't a very flattering first impression.

Dr. Lucretia Karlauv was on her hands and knees, having crawled under her desk to retrieve some lost article. He couldn't make out much about her initially, save that she was wearing a knee-length, white office skirt. He quickly averted his eyes from the first of her observed attributes—one that would not be going on his report. He cleared his throat loudly.

The woman jumped and, as he should have anticipated, hit her head on the underside of the desk. After a moment of moaning over her injury she called, "Just a moment." She backed out from under the desk and glanced over her shoulder. "Yes?"

Vincent was momentarily taken aback. The scientist was a woman in her mid-twenties with wide-set brown eyes and soft, attractive features. Her long brunette hair was tied in a high ponytail that trailed down her neck and back with light curls. Her bright, curious manner seemed out of place among the harsh, iridescent office lights.

The Turk mentally shook himself. "You're Dr. Karlauv, aren't you? Professor Gast's new assistant?"

"Yes." She glanced back at the desk with a disgruntled frown. "I must look rather foolish, crawling about like that, but I think I dropped my pen. The rest are in a box somewhere." She gestured to the dozen cardboard boxes and crates that were strewn about the small office, some open and spewing their contents onto the floor. The room was in quite a state of disarray. She climbed to her feet.

Vincent approached, reaching for her face. Lucretia was a bit startled, and was about to recoil when he plucked something from behind her ear. She laughed when she saw it was her missing pen. "Oh, of course. I'm usually not this scatter-brained—only when I'm excited." She retrieved the pen and moved back to her desk, filling out her papers while using the largest crate as a chair. "Can I help you? Mr.…."

"Valentine. Vincent Valentine." He pulled out a small notepad and pencil from his coat. "It's procedure that I ask you some questions, as you are a new employee to this department."

"I filled out all the forms, and submitted my personal file and transcript to Professor Gast."

"Yes, but this is somewhat different." As there were no chairs, he chose to stand against the wall near her. "I'm going to as you some personal questions."

Lucretia glanced up from her work, looking him over for the first time. "Oh, that's right. You're a Turk, aren't you? Professor Gast mentioned that you'd come." She returned to her papers. "Can I work while we do this? I'm already behind."

Vincent frowned. He didn't like his subjects to be busy while he interviewed them, as it hampered his ability to judge their responses. When he looked at the condition of her office, however, he sympathized with her situation. "As long as you can pay attention and answer truthfully, that's fine. This may take quite a while."

"Of course. Go ahead."

"Let's start with some basic information." He suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if he were about to do something wrong. "Please feel free to talk all you like. Don't skip any details and don't exaggerate. And nothing you say will leave this room; this report is only for the Turks."

She hummed agreement, seeming to consider what he'd said. "We'll, I'm Lucretia Elaine Karlauv," she began cheerfully. "My parents are Samuel and Alexandria Karlauv, and I have three younger brothers." She glanced at him. "Is this the kind of information you want?"

"Yes. Please continue."

* * *

Willy looked the court over critically. It was a caged area not much larger than an alley, as it belonged to the junior high in the area and wasn't well taken-care off. The basket hung on one side was askew. "Someone should fix that," she mused aloud. "It doesn't look too hard."

"I'll boost you up." Tyser crouched down by the wall. "Climb up on my shoulders."

"Thanks." She did, and was lifted up to the level of the hoop. "This'll just take a second. Feel free to cheek out my ass while you're down there, Gavin."

Gavin rolled his eyes. "Sure, Willy. Take your time."

Willy giggled wickedly, and set to fixing the hoop. It was only a matter of repositioning it and tightening the bolts. Remembering that morning, Tyser commented, "Yea, Queenie's really good at fixin' stuff. She's our tech expert, ya' know. But her cooking sucks." She stomped on his shoulder. "Hey—what?"

"She cooks fine," Korben spoke up in her defense. "In fact, she made us breakfast this morning."

"That's because she's in he—ow!" She stomped on Tyser again before he could finish, then leapt gracefully off his shoulders. She made a face at him; he shrugged. "Kidding, kidding."

"We'll play two on two, obviously," Willy said, taking charge. "Me and Korben vs. Tyser and Gavin, since Korben's the only one that respects me."

Korben looked puzzled. "I thought you'd want to be on Gavin's team."

"Well, this way I can guard him."

"Or body check him," Tyser added, taking the ball from Gavin. He made a shot, grinning as it slipped through the net with a satisfying swish. "We'll start with the ball."

All that morning they played, darting and shooting, passing and blocking. Willy didn't leave Gavin for an instant, and he complained about not being able to receive a pass. "I can't pass if you're not open," Tyser reasoned. "Get away from her."

"I'm trying." Gavin cut left and right, doing everything he could think of to escape, but she was always there, laughing.

"I _am_ the one that taught you those moves," she reminded, slapping him lightly on the rear. "No chance."

"Gavin's got no game," Korben added, "and neither does Tyser." He tipped the ball out of his friend's hand and scored a three-point shot. "That's twenty-one. We win."

Willy jumped up and down, and then leapt onto Gavin's back with a cheer. "We win, we win!" Gavin grunted, staggering a bit with the added weight, but he remained upright. "You owe us lunch!"

"Not me," Tyser protested. "I'm broke."

"Nice try—we just got a raise!"

The group left the schoolyard, as the children were being let out for recess and they didn't want to be in the way. Laughing and joking, they made their way to a small shop called "Mindy's Café." Korben led them to a table near the back. "This is where I told Vincent to meet us. I know the owner of this place: Mindy Monroe, formerly Mindy Cruthers. She has an interesting night life, but she serves good drinks."

They ordered their drinks, and it was then that Vincent entered. He was still dressed in his Turks suit. They waved him over. "We ordered you some lemonade," said Willy, winking as he took a seat beside her. She puckered her lips to imitate the sour flavor, which she had never liked.

"Thank you." Vincent looked out of place among the others with his navy suit; his expression betrayed soon enough that something other than his outfit separated him further from the group. "I met someone today."

"Oh, that's right—you were on assignment." Tyser took a long gulp of his drink. "I remember when Raile took me to interview that guy Hojo—what a shit-head prick he was! I couldn't stand it!"

"All the scientists are like that," said Gavin. "They treat you like pieces of meat."

Vincent folded his hands on the table, not meeting any of his friends' curious gazes. "It was a woman."

Willy was about to lung when the waiter came back and asked for their lunch orders. Korben took the initiative. "Please, allow me." He pointed to each in turn. "The big blonde guy will have a double cheeseburger with bacon, lettuce, and pickles—dill pickles. And a side of fries. Gavin's bulking up for SOLDIER, so he'll have a double order of pasta with meat sauce, a baked potato, and a Caesar salad. The little lady's dieting, but she doesn't want her obsession to know, so she'll have a tuna salad sandwich."

Willy kicked him under the table. He continued without falter. "I'll have a deli-style chicken sandwich with mayonnaise. And potato chips. And our handsome friend Vincent here will have a ham and cheese sandwich, with a half-size salad with blue cheese."

"And a milkshake," Vincent added quietly. "Strawberry."

Everyone at the table stopped—except for Gavin, who couldn't grasp the significance of a strawberry milkshake. They exchanged glances, and then turned to stare at Vincent. He was still sitting with his hands folded on the table, head slightly bowed so that dark bangs fell over his face. The waiter regarded them indifferently, asked if that was all, and then left.

"This is really serious, isn't it?" Gavin asked, looking from person to person in bewilderment. "I mean, can someone explain what's going on?"

Tyser leaned over in the silence. "Spades only drinks strawberry milkshakes when there's something big on his mind. The fruit helps him think." Despite the ridiculousness of what he was saying, Gavin was humbled by his grave tone.

Willy clasped Vincent's wrist, her manner suddenly serious. "She didn't take advantage of you, did she? Because if she—"

"Of course not." He flicked his head to clear the hair from his eyes. Faced with his friends, his repose began to lift. "Nothing like that."

"So spit it out," said Tyser. "Who is this chick?"

"Wait." Korben signaled for them to hold the conversation for him. He stood up from the table and moved purposefully across the room to a door labeled "Mindy's Room," in fluorescent spray paint. He entered, and after a moment—and the sound of a brief argument—he emerged once more and retook his seat. "What's the girl's name?" he asked deliberately.

Vincent blinked, clearly puzzled. "She's Professor Gast's new assistant—Lucretia Karlauv. She—"

Korben held up the instant-developing camera he'd taken from Mindy's back room, interrupting Vincent with a click, a flash, and the whirl of a tiny motor. Everyone turned to glare at him as he plucked the picture out of the device, and shook it to develop the image. "Sorry," he apologized. "You were blushing, and I wanted proof."

Vincent's milkshake arrived, and he sipped from it with embarrassment as Willy kicked their companion under the table again. "C'mon, Korben. Leave Vince alone. He doesn't get lucky often, ya' know, even if he has a play-boy face."

Vincent continued to drink through the straw without comment.

"Yes, I know. But then, there's always Rose."

Vincent stopped, his attention regained at the mentioning of the card from the night before. Korben received several pairs of sharp eyes on him, as well as another kick. "You know," he said calmly, "you're leaving a sizable bruise on my shin."

"The stop being an ass," Willy snapped, giving him one more good strike. They were all surprised by her sudden vehemence. "We don't need to hear more about your damn cards."

"Cards?" as Gavin, his eyebrows rising curiously. "What kind of cards?"

"These." Korben produced the deck from his coat pocket and slid them across the table. Before Willy could protest he'd picked them up and was flipping through them. "They're not tarot cards—they're my own creation. They don't answer questions. They tell fortunes."

Tyser made a slightly uncomfortable face. "You keep those with you?"

He nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Or course. It works better if they're with me all the time." Willy muttered something under her breath and turned away.

But Gavin was the very picture of interest. "These are amazing," he said, studying each card carefully. "My grandmother had a set of tarot cards when I was younger, but they weren't half as good as these. You drew them yourself?"

"Yeah. Not bad, huh?"

"They're damn good." He paused. "Is this the one?" He held up the card with the scarlet-clad woman: Rose.

"Korben read my fortune last night," Vincent explained with a nod. "That was my first card. He predicted I would fall in love with someone untouchable."

The cards' creator grinned ironically. "And now we learn that he's just met a lovely new upper-staff member. Coincidence?"

"Could be," answered Tyser. "I mean, not everything you said was exactly believable."

Korben shrugged. "Oh well. Fate doesn't care if you believe in it or not."

Willy was tempted to kick him again, but he wrapped his legs around his chair, out of her reach. Instead she turned to Gavin, trying to keep her manner light. "You don't really believe in this stuff, do ya' Gavin?"

"Actually, I do." Gavin passed the cards back to their owner. "Tell my fortune."

"No," Willy said immediately. She struggled to correct her tone. "That stuff's just a lot of crap. And our food's coming."

The waiter arrived and passed their dishes out, but only Tyser began to eat. "If it's crap," Gavin argued without the slightest reservation, "then there shouldn't be a problem. Besides, you don't believe it anyway."

"If _you_ don't believe," Korben interjected, "then it won't work."

"Oh, I believe." The SOLDIER member grinned, and took only a moment in helping himself to a mouthful of pasta. "Come one; you know you're curious."

Korben admitted that he had a point. He began to shuffle, and because his subject appeared genuinely interested, he explained the action. "Normal tarot cards have a supposed power inherent in the symbols and arrangements themselves. Your believing in them makes them work. I naturally have some psychic talent. My cards work because _I_ make them work." He handed the deck to Gavin.

"So, _you're_ the one who can read the future, not the cards," said Gavin, still grinning as he shuffled. "Your ability reads my future, then affects me when I shuffle. Each card I pull is my future, as seen by your psychic power."

Korben couldn't help but return the man's grin, very pleased. "Impressive. Sounds like you study this."

"A bit," he admitted, setting the cards down once more. "SOLDIER members have to know a bit of everything." He set his hand on the deck, preparing to flip the fist card.

"Wait," said Willy, placing her hand over his. "You don't have to do this. It's—"

"You don't have to be scared," Gavin assured, confused by the look of fear on her face.

"My cards don't predict time," Korben added. He wasn't trying to comfort his friends as much as convincing them to let him continue without impediment. "Even if he pulls the Lifestream card it could mean he lives for another twenty years without doing anything especially interesting."

Willy withdrew reluctantly, and Gavin turned the first card. It was a picture of a woman, much like Rose, but this one was taller, skinnier, and was surrounded in black lace that didn't cover her very well. "Korben laughed out loud. "Nice pull," he congratulated dryly. "That's Mindy, the very picture of lust. A goddess of sex, if you will."

Willy's eyes grew wide, locking on the man at her side with a sickening grin. Gavin blushed, and his friends laughed, grateful for the relief in the tension. "But, isn't Mindy the name of this café?" Vincent asked.

"Actually, yes." He chuckled, as if savoring some private joke. "Anyway, Gavin's gonna get lucky. With who is still up to debate, but you can give the rag a rest for a while." He flinched just barely, indicating another blow to his leg. But the strike never hit his ego. "Next, please."

Shaking his head, Gavin turned the next two cards. The first was a young boy dressed in purple sitting on a darkened, cobweb-covered thrown. He was holding a golden crown in outstretched hands. The second was Twin Dragons Mreg and Germ again. Korben nodded, satisfied with what he was seeing. "The boy is Claee, King of the Slums. He grants rewards and payments—you're about to pay off big time." He lifted an eyebrow. "Maybe even a promotion to Second Class. You're scoring points all over, Freak."

"Doing better than Jack," Tyser added. "But isn't that dragon card something bad?"

"Maybe. Mreg and Germ represent conflict. Maybe Second Class will be too much for him."

Gavin laughed. "Yeah, right. I've been training long enough."

"Right, right," Willy said enthusiastically. Her grin was stretched from ear to ear, squinting her eyes from below. Her change in mood, though sudden, was understandable.

"You're not drooling, are you?" Vincent asked at her side. He wasn't as successful as Korben in concealing a grimace as her heel came down on his foot.

Careless and amused as they were, none in the group anticipated Gavin's next card. Korben was readying an insult at Willy, and at first he didn't notice the wide, gruesome, red-eyed face lying on the table. When finally he cast his eyes down to check, a look of shock came over his face, and he leapt to his feet. The sound of his chair clattering alerted his friends' attentions as well as that of the surrounding customers. "What is it?" asked Gavin, perhaps not as surprised as he should have been. "Did I—"

"_That_ is not possible!" Korben nearly shouted, jabbing an accusing finger at Chaos. His eyes were wild with anger, bewilderment, shock, and fear. "You don't know how severe that card is—_no one_ has turned it in years. Years! And now, twice in twelve hours!"

"Korben calm down." Vincent stood, attempting to ease the man back into his seat. "Just because—"

"Don't touch me!" he snapped, shaking the man off. "You don't understand! When I made that card I knew it'd never show up—that's a fate worse than death, worse than slavery! Worse than anything!"

By now everyone in the café was watching them, and the owner—Mindy, dressed only in a red bathrobe—was standing just outside her door with a scowl. Korben's friends remained in their seats, knowing that when he realized he was making a scene, he'd join them. But he didn't calm, and he didn't sit. He only stared at Chaos with a haunted look. It was Gavin who spoke at last. "Is that my death?" he asked, for the fist time in any of their memories his voice clear and serious. "I'm going to die in some horrible way? As a member of SOLDIER, I'm not afraid."

"You will be," Korben murmured in reply. "You still don't get it."

Glaring at him defiantly, Gavin turned the next card. He ignored Willy, who was gripping his sleeve. The picture was that of a woman's upper torso, painted like Earth viewed from afar with oceans and clouds. Her arms curled as if holding something precious to her chest. "What does this card mean?" he asked with quiet firmness.

Korben seemed to relax, and slowly he righted his chair and sank into it. "It's Gaea," he replied, running his shaking hand through his hair. "Earth Mother. Redemption."

"So whatever fate Chaos is, Gaea will cancel it out anyway?"

"…Yes."

"Fine." Gavin gathered up the four cards and placed them back in the deck, then handed it back to the owner. "Thank you, Jay, for reading my fortune. You okay?"

"Yeah. I'll be…okay."

"Good. I've lost my appetite, so I hope you guys don't mind if I leave you all." He dropped some money on the table and stood. Everyone in the café went back to his or her own meals.

"Gavin, wait." Willy stood up and took his arm. "I'll come, too."

He glanced at her and smiled, gradually easing the tension that had surrounded them. "Are you watching out for me, as usual?"

She didn't want to admit to her anxiety, and sputtered on a response. "Well, if you're going to have some kind of sexual explosion, I want to be there."

Gavin's good humor returned, and he laughed. "Alright—let's take a walk. I haven't been around Rolligm for a while." With one last glance at Korben, the pair left arm in arm. Tyser shifted in his seat, wishing he had an excuse to leave as well. He looked to Vincent, and shrugged helplessly.

Vincent silently decided that, as a senior Turk, the situation was his responsibility. He set his hand on Korben's shoulder. "I'll take you back to the apartment."

"I don't want to go back yet." He stuffed the cards in his jacket, and then produced several folded bills to pay for his meal. "I'm going to take a walk. Don't wait up." He stood.

"Hey, Korben." Tyser stood as well. "Don't let it get to you. You're a good Turk."

"Yeah." Korben didn't look at him and began to head for the door. Neither of the two men made a move to stop him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Fearful Symmetry**

Chapter 5: Rose II

* * *

It was late that evening, after Korben's scene at the café, that Vincent found himself wandering alone through Temdor—to him, Sector Two. He passed his apartment several times but didn't go in. Even as the hour progressed and the temperature dropped, he merely turned up the collar of his long coat and continued on. His mind was restless, and in his case active thoughts often led to active behavior. The movement, the passing sights—even the dirty, grated smell of the city—helped him think.

Or, it usually did. Now his thoughts were so turbulent that he would have to run to keep up, and even then find no answers. It would feel good, though, to feel the wind. Being a Turk gave him plenty of exercise, but he rarely had the chance to simply run.

Vincent sighed, attempting to expel these impulses. _There's nothing to be concerned about_, he told himself for perhaps the hundredth time. _Korben will be fine—you've seen him get like this. Raile's with his wife, happy. Tyser's probably at the apartment, drinking. Willy is with Gavin, most likely…well, fulfilling Korben's prediction. _He coughed into his hand, not entirely from the cold biting at his lungs.

"But, good for her." He stopped walking, raising his gaze to the cloud canopy resting over Midgar. The sound of his own voice surprised even himself, as he rarely spoke to himself aloud. He found it an annoying habit; another sigh escaped his lips. "These cards must be bothering me more than I thought," he murmured, moving on. "Or maybe, just…"

_A forbidden love. A violent separation. Turbulent emotions, a journey, conflict, and then…a fate worse than death. But even though Chaos is the one I should be pondering, I can only think about the first. Wondering…what she'll be like. Because I really do believe in fate…._

Down the street some ways was a small convenience store, and as Vincent approached the door opened with the soft chime of a bell. A woman stepped out carrying two large bags, which apparently blocked her view; she bumped into another man and nearly dropped both her bags. The man steadied her, and Vincent could hear her laughter mingling with an embarrassed apology. He recognized the voice, and the realization prickled the back of his mind sharply. Taking a deep breath, he approached Lucretia for the second time that day.

She didn't see him at first thanks to her bags, and he could have laughed at the spectacle she made. But presently he was too disturbed by her sudden appearance to indulge in so simple a pleasure. _I do believe in fate_ some voice deep within him whispered. _Meeting her like this…when she was my mind's sole concern…it can't be a coincidence, can it? Or does fate only apply if I chose to follow it? Does speaking to her bring me that much closer to Chaos?_

"Oh, Mr. Valentine, isn't it?" The woman's voice pulled him from his musings, and away from his being able to make a choice. "What a coincidence. Do you live around here?"

"Actually, yes." She was smiling brightly at him, and somehow, he didn't want that to stop. On an impulse he said, "Are you heading home? I could carry one of those for you."

Lucretia heaved a sigh of relief. "Could you? It'd be such a help."

"It's no problem," he replied smoothly, relieving her of her first burden. "But…I'm glad that I could see you again so quickly."

She glanced at him sideways, her expression pleased. "So am I." They began to walk together. "I have to admit, this morning was fun. I feel like I've known you for years—I haven't told _anyone_ some of the things I told you."

Vincent nodded. "In truth, I feel a bit guilty. I know your life story, but you know nothing of mine."

"Well, now's our chance." Lucretia shifted her bag to the other arm so that she could see him better. "My apartment is several blocks away. Why don't we talk a bit?"

"I'd like that," he replied without thought. And suddenly they were talking, sharing stories and laughing like a pair of old friends. Vincent revealed several things he'd kept secret that morning: the two of them had both grown up in Mordrina, and therefore had attended the same elementary school. They'd probably even shared a class, not realizing. Together they joked about their old teachers and friends. They were so engrossed in each other that Vincent didn't notice at first that he'd followed her into her building and up to her apartment.

"Can I make you some coffee?" Lucretia asked, retrieving her bag of groceries and heading toward the kitchen. "Can you stay a while?"

"…Yes, that's fine." Vincent glanced about the small apartment, and found its disorder vaguely annoying. There were boxes and bags everywhere, covering the hardwood floor and dusty furniture. If anything, he should at least help her unpack, as she was alone. "I see you moved in recently," he remarked.

She poked her head out of the kitchen and laughed. "Isn't it something? Well, Shinra requested that I live in one of their own complexes, so I moved from Mordrina. Rent comes out of my salary—it's so much easier, not having to worry about bills and paperwork." She disappeared for a moment, then emerged once more with two cups of coffee. "Between here and my office, I've got my work cut out for me."

"Maybe I can give you a hand." Though Vincent was glad to do it, his boldness surprised him. He'd never so calm with women—he simply didn't know how to deal with them. If living with Willy had taught him anything, it was that women and men were very different in nearly every regard, and he'd never bothered to give the matter another thought. But now, something about this woman intrigued him.

"I'd be eternally grateful." When Lucretia smiled at him, he felt a little warmer on the inside. "I'm so lucky to have found someone as thoughtful as you, Vincent."

"It's nothing."

They started with the boxes: Vincent unpacked the dishes and appliances while Lucretia took care of her personal things. They talked the entire time—actually, Lucretia did most of the talking, but Vincent enjoyed listening to her more than sharing his own comments anyway. The hours slipped by like nothing, and before either realized it was late into the night.

* * *

The next morning found Vincent and Lucretia in a small Sector Two café, sharing breakfast and coffee—they hadn't slept all night, and yet neither was tired. Amazingly enough, they hadn't run out of things to talk about, either. They were still talking when Tyser found them during his own search for breakfast. He joined them. "Hey, Jack, you didn't come back last night."

"Jack?" Lucretia echoed curiously.

"Tyser names his friends after playing cards," Vincent explained. "Oh, I forgot to introduce you. This is Drake Tyser, a fellow Turk. Tyser, this is Lucretia Karlauv."

Tyser shook her hand, then cast Vincent a suggestive look. "So, you're the one Jack was telling us about yesterday. A pleasure."

"Please to meet you." Lucretia's gaze flickered to Vincent for a brief moment. "Your friend tells wonderful stories. I feel like I know you already."

Before Tyser could speak again—as his expression indicated the rising of some potentially obnoxious comment—Vincent intervened. "So, you're out alone this morning?"

"Yeah." Tyser leaned back in his chair. "Duce came back late and said not to bother him, and King's still playing family man." He chuckled to himself. "Queenie didn't come back, though. Guess Ace's fortune came true after all."

"Fortune?" The woman's attention was drawn in full. "Your friend Mr. Jay, isn't that right?"

"Yeah, he tells fortunes, sort of," Tyser replied before Vincent could stop him. "Don't know how accurate they are, but…."

Lucretia's face brightened in excitement. "Do…do you think…your friend would read _my_ fortune? I so love old culture—it's so fascinating. I don't care if it comes true or not."

The two men exchanged glances. "I don't know," Vincent began, a strangely unsettling feeling in his stomach. "Our apartment isn't—"

"I'm sure it's no worse than mine was yesterday," she insisted, already collecting the money for her bill. "Would he mind terribly? I'd be so grateful."

Vincent wondered vaguely if she always used her gratitude to get what she wanted. He admitted, however, that it was working. "I don't know if he'll be up to it," he stated slowly, "but I can take you to meet him."

"Great. Just let me pay—don't worry, I'll cover yours, too."

Tyser turned to his friend as she hailed a waiter and paid the tab. "Are you sure this is okay? Or are you just trying to get her into your apartment?"

Vincent shrugged. Truthfully, he didn't know. All he knew for certain was that he couldn't say no to her wide, bright brown eyes. He led the two of them out of the restaurant and to their apartment.

* * *

Korben was sitting at the short table in the apartment living room, legs crossed, staring at the smooth surface on which his cards were laid. He collected them one by one, shuffled the deck, and flipped the first card.

Chaos.

The occurrence was so common now that he didn't even flinch. He'd spent the entire night shuffling the cards again and again, and every time he pulled the same card. He'd even wandered the streets, asking anyone who might give a damn if they'd shuffle and turn. After ten he stopped keeping count: they'd all pulled Chaos.

When the trio entered, Korben didn't even notice at first. It was the short, excited intake of breath that alerted him to the presence of someone other than his friends, and he glanced over his shoulder. He was surprised to see a soft-featured brunette watching him curiously. In her eyes was a look of amazement—the kind of unbridled enthusiasm he'd once held in his own talents. He knew immediately that he could read her fortune. _Or, I would have been able to, once._

"This is him," Vincent introduced. "Korben Jay. Korben, this is Lucretia Karlauv."

Korben took careful note of the expression on her face. He understood why Vincent had blushed when speaking of her; she had a very open, sincere look about her—naïve, optimistic. It wasn't surprising that someone like Vincent would be attracted to such rare characteristics. "Please," he said, "don't pay attention to the mess. I didn't expect company."

The living space's slovenly appearance was clearly the furthest thing from her mind. "Vincent tells me you read fortunes," she said, affirming his previous assumptions of her. "I was hoping you would read mine."

Korben began to shuffle the cards. He had a feeling that it wouldn't work, or else he'd witness another haunting future, but the possibility of someone who believed was too great for him. He motioned for her to sit across from him. "I make no guarantees, but you look like you believe in this, at least." He handed the deck to her. "Good luck."

"Am I to shuffle them?"

"Yes."

She did so, grinning all the while. She pulled the first card and studied it a moment before placing it on the table. "Your drawings are wonderful."

The card was Mreg and Germ once more, but on this card they weren't battling. Tyser was the first to comprehend the image. "Hey, are those dragons screwing?"

Vincent coughed into his hand, but Lucretia didn't appear phased. She waited patiently for an explanation. "The mating dragons represent connection," Korben began, regaining some of his confidence. "You're about to meet someone very different from the people you know already; someone who connects with you on a spiritual level. Not necessarily romantic, but someone who understands you."

"That's amazing," she said, the excitement showing in her face. "Vincent and I met yesterday, and we're already good friends. Isn't that right?"

"Yes," Vincent replied hesitantly. "That is…odd."

By now Lucretia was completely convinced, and she quickly turned the next three cards all at once. The first was the most visually disturbing thus far; Korben grinned, pleased by their expressions, as he alone understood the symbolism. He was beginning to feel more like himself. He paused for a moment, letting the vision burn into their minds, before explaining. "Melissa is the symbol of passion." The picture was that of a beautiful, dark-haired woman. Her chest had been laid open, exposing her organs in gruesome detail; muscles and flesh were pulled aside to reveal broken, twisted ribs, and a heart that was glowing pure white. "You're a scientist, aren't you?" he questioned, and when she nodded, he continued. "Melissa is full of passion greater than life. You'll devote yourself completely to your work, your mission. It'll consume you."

"I've just been assigned to a new project," the woman whispered, as if frightened of breaking his woven spell. "What about the next one? The vampire."

"The vampire doesn't represent you," he replied. "You are the woman it's feeding on. The card is Lamprey: complete sacrifice. You'll devote everything you deem sacred to some higher power—your project, maybe. Lamprey often follows Melissa. That's why the woman are the same in both pictures." He paused to take note of Vincent and Tyser, who were watching apprehensively. "The last card is Michael, the Boy in White. He represents birth. Are you married?"

"No."

"Well, you might be. Michael usually represents child birth." He cast a sideways glance at Vincent briefly. "Congratulations."

"But your cards don't predict time," the older man said hastily. "It could be years from now."

"True." Korben grinned, but when Lucretia—blushing—moved to take the newest card, he suddenly reached out and stopped her. "Let me." He pulled the deck closer to him and turned.

Lifestream.

Vincent seemed to relax somewhat, as if he'd expected something else. Korben then told his subject that her fortune had ended. Quite satisfied with the predictions, Lucretia then thanked him and decided to take her leave. Vincent volunteered to walk her to the train station. Once they were gone, Korben sighed.

Tyser sat down heavily on he sofa. "What's the matter, Duce? She seems like a nice girl with a good future. Perfect for Jack."

"He doesn't know what he's getting into." Korben moved the Lifestream card aside, revealing the demon Chaos; he'd turned two cards at once to avoid showing it in front of her. "Chaos again."

Tyser straightened; even if he didn't quiet believe in Korben's "talents," his friends' predictions were hitting close to the mark, and it was disturbing. "Are you sure about Chaos?" he asked quietly. "I mean, we can't all be on our way to hell, can we?"

"I've read dozens of fortunes since Chaos first appeared. They all pulled Chaos at some point, if not right away. It can't be a coincidence." He picked up the card and twirled it in his fingers. "I'm not quite as frightened by it anymore. There are two explanations." He collected and shuffled the cards except for Chaos. "First, that whatever this fate is will affect everyone in Midgar itself, like a war."

"And the second?"

He sighed. "That it applies only to me. My own future may be reflecting in the cards. If it's strong enough, it's possible."

Tyser considered this for a moment. "Have you tried reading your own fortune?"

"Yes. Chaos, every time." Korben laughed bitterly. "I'm beginning to regret I ever made the damn thing. I think I'll give them a rest for a while." He reinserted the card in the deck and climbed to his feet. "The general called while you were out. We've got an assignment for a senior Turk. Since Raile's still out on leave, you and Vincent will have to take it. I'm doing street work."

"Sure, sure, whatever. I'll get my suit."

Tyser moved away, heading for his room to change. Korben, however, paused for a moment. He stared down at the cards in his hands, resisting the temptation to remove Chaos. Staring at the card as he had so many times before would not change anything, and neither would excluding it from the deck. Whatever was to happen to them—to him—he would have to discover for himself. He resolved to keep the cards hidden and in safe keeping until that time arrived.


	6. Chapter 6

Fearful Symmetry

Chapter 6: Angus

* * *

Nearly a month passed uneventfully for the group of friends. Gavin and Willy continued to see each other. Vincent's meetings with Lucretia became more frequent. Raile was able to spend more time with his family, and Tyser was content being single and "independent." Even Korben's spirits began to lift, now that he was somewhat separated from his cards. For a while, things were going well.

Vincent returned late to the apartment one night and took a seat on the sofa. Willy could tell immediately that something important was on his mind—she'd caught a glance of him from the window as he approached their building, and clearly saw him drop the remains of a strawberry milkshake in a wastebasket outside. As Tyser and Korben were out on assignment, she decided to take advantage of their private time.

"Hey, Vinnie," she called from the kitchen, washing her dishes from a dinner of somewhat overcooked macaroni and cheese. "You looked dragged." She fetched a bottle of mixed fruit juice and two glasses, joining him in the living space. "Hard day?"

Vincent accepted her beverage offer and sipped the drink quietly. "I have a problem," he said, his voice reserved.

"Try me." Willy set her glass down untouched. She waned to appear completely attentive. "Can I help?"

He shook his head—his slow, awkward behavior proved to her how serious his situation was. "I'm in love with Lucretia," he told her.

His friend was taken somewhat aback. She'd known Vincent for five years, and he'd never admitted to being _attracted_ to a woman, much less _in love_ with one. He'd only dated twice in her memory; both relationships had ended swiftly. When she overcame her surprise, she quickly forced herself to encourage him. "Vincent, that's wonderful. You don't have to be ashamed of that. She seems like a very special person." Though she wanted to be an assuring, serious friend, she felt that she was grinning ear to ear like an excited child. "And she seems to really—"

"She's in love with someone else."

Willy stopped immediately, finally comprehending the complexity of his problem. Though it was probably the worst question to ask, she couldn't help herself. "Who?"

"Gast's assistant, Ian Hojo."

"Hojo!" She nearly leapt to her feet in outrage. "That skinny, butt-ugly needle-dick prick? But…." She shook her head violently to dissolve any images the thought might have conjured. "How could she? The man's heartless. She's giving women a bad name!"

"She says there's more to him that he let's on," Vincent continued in barely a whisper. He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, chin resting on folded hands. His eyes were downcast and solemn. "She says he has insight, and passion, and genius. She loves him for it."

Willy stared at him; even as a Turk, she didn't need a psychology degree to know what he was thinking. "Everything you're not."

His hands tightened reflexively, then relaxed. "Yeah. Something…like that."

"Oh, Vincent." She leaned forward, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He didn't respond, but she knew that he needed it. "I'm sorry—I should have realized sooner. Why do you always have to be the silent one? I care about you, you know."

"I know," Vincent replied through a sigh. "But this…is personal."

"Of course it's personal! You're in love, for God's sake." Willy tucked her legs beneath her and eased him back against the sofa. She laid her head on his shoulder, knowing that anything more would only make him uncomfortable. Though she had always found comfort in physical contact, Vincent was very different. "You don't have to be ashamed," she said, hoping that her words would be enough. "You're smart, and handsome, and caring—she's a fool not to see that in you."

He shook his head slowly. "No, she sees. She merely sees more in him."

"Just as bad. It's her loss."

"And mine."

Willy paused, listening to the tone of his voice. He sounded so…empty. "This is the real thing, isn't it?" she murmured. "You…really love her."

* * *

Vincent allowed another low sign to escape his lips. "Yes," he admitted, letting himself lean against the woman at his side. Of the few people he considered his friends, Willy knew him the best, and in her presence he felt at ease. With her he could share his deepest secrets and not risk rejection or contempt. More than ever he depended on her.

"There's not much I can say," Willy continued. "It's hard, isn't it? The only thing you can think about is why she chose him over you. You think you're not good enough, or that you didn't do enough." She wriggled closer to him, as if searching for comfort from her own memories. "But it's not true. You told me that, once."

"I know." He remembered how he'd found Willow Trust all those years ago, sitting curled in the corner of a bar after one of his assignments. Something had drawn him to her, coaxed him to lift her out of the stench and filth, and…to care. To simply care about another person had been something he hadn't done for a long time. And he knew now that if anyone would understand his plight, she would. He didn't remember how he'd helped her, but maybe now she could help him.

Willy must have felt his need for resolution, for she shifted and began to speak once more. "There's only a bit of advice I can give you, and it won't make it easier." She paused to collect her thoughts. "You can't make her love you—there's nothing you can do to change her mind. You can't make her not love…that man, and if you try she'll only hate you for it."

"I don't want that," Vincent replied quickly.

"I know. Just remember that she won't love you if you're not first her friend. Stay with her, help her—and please watch out for her, because if she thinks she can tame Ian Hojo, she'll need someone to watch her back."

He nodded, realizing the sense in those simple words. "Yes, I will. Thank you, Willow." She snorted in annoyance, but she didn't protest his using her real name. She pulled his arm around her and snuggled close like a kitten, and he held her, unashamed that being with her comforted him. It was like this that the two of them fell asleep.

* * *

The next day brought another problem. The call came early that morning, while everyone was eating breakfast. Tyser tossed the cellular to Vincent. "For you."

Vincent caught the phone perfectly in one hand, wiping his mouth with the other—Willy had made them all breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon. "This is Vincent," he said into the receiver. The others were involved in a conversation about Mindy's Café and paid no mind. At one point, however, Willy realized that he wasn't saying anything. He was just listening with downcast eyes, and his face was serious. After a short time he said, "All right, that's fine. I'll be ready by tomorrow. It's no problem." Then he hung up.

"That was Raile, wasn't it?" Tyser asked. "Dealing out a new assignment."

Vincent continued to eat his breakfast, but they could tell something had changed his mood in that he wouldn't meet their gazes. "Yes."

He didn't elaborate, and finally Willy asked, "Well? What is it?"

"Relocation." The simple word caused all their faces to fall. "A group of scientists is on its way to the new mansion in Nibelheim. Their work is highly experimental and potentially dangerous; the President wants me to keep an eye on them."

"How long?" was Korben's question.

"A year."

"What a minute…." Willy stared at him, after a moment catching on. "Did you say scientists? Then…."

The door opened suddenly, and a cheerful voice called out, "Guess who's here!" With an arrogant air that was a bit out of character for him, Gavin sauntered into the room. He was dressed in his full SOLDIER uniform, complete with the thick-soled boots, baggy black pants, gray shirt, suspenders, gloves, and belt. He spread his arms and turned in a full circle, grinning from ear to ear. "C'mon, guess."

"Uh, Gavin?" Korben suggested.

"Gavie?" was Tyser's.

When the SOLDIER shook his head, Korben tried, "Grabby?"

"Gropey!" was Willy's nearly anticipated response.

Gavin moved to her quickly, lifting the woman out of her chair and spinning her about. "Only when I'm in as good a mood as this," he replied, planting a kiss firmly on her lips. She squealed and threw her arms around him, an affection he eagerly shared.

"Um, guys?" Korben said as the moments passed and neither gave signs of separating. "We know you're gropey, so you don't have to put on a display."

Willy was forced to withdraw as he breath ran out, reduced to giggling in his ear. "As much as I agree with Willy's sentiments," Gavin said with a cocky grin, "you're all wrong." He gave a short bow, bending Willy backward in the process. "You're looking at Captain Gavin Frekes, of SOLDIER Second Class."

"Really?" In her enthusiasm Willy nearly pounced with another ferocious kiss. He gave no complaints, ignoring Tyser and Korben's congratulations. Vincent only watched. He pushed away from the table and stood.

"Gavin, that's amazing!" Willy exclaimed as she released him once more. "I knew you'd make it! You are such a _stud_, Gavin. It's about time the general got his head out of his ass."

"I did a couple jobs recently that got the President's eye," he said, oozing with pride. "Apparently, I'm on my way up. Who knows…."

Willy hugged him again, overjoyed by his news. Tyser laughed at her. "Well, you've got Willy as giddy as a school girl," he remarked. "That's got to be worth something."

"Even as Second Class we Turks still out-rank him," Korben reminded. No one noticed as Vincent retrieved his coat and headed for the door.

Willy stuck her tongue out at Korben, enhancing the schoolgirl image. "Didn't I tell you?" Tyser declared. "Just a damn kid. Keep your tongue in your mouth."

"Oh, I'll find a mouth for it." She turned back to Gavin, preparing to prove her point, when for only a moment her eyes met Vincent's. Her expression grew curious. "Vince, what's wrong?"

Vincent was already at the door. "Sorry for leaving like this, but I have preparations to make." He gave Gavin a nod of acknowledgment. "Congratulations, Gavin."

"Yeah, thanks."

Suddenly Willy remembered what they'd been talking about earlier, and she could have kicked herself for being so insensitive. She settled with slapping her forehead. The distraction, however, allowed Vincent enough time to slip out the door. "Wait—Vince!" she called, but it was too late. She cursed as the door closed behind him.

"What's wrong with Vincent?" Korben asked thoughtfully.

"Damnit, you guys don't get it," Willy said, breaking away from Gavin. "He's in love with Lucretia—this isn't just a crush. And now…." She sighed in frustration, moving to grab her coat from the closet. "I have to go after him."

Gavin pursued her, taking her by the arm. "Hey, wait a minute. I thought—"

"Gav, I'm sorry, but I have to." She kissed him briefly. "Vince is really in a bind now, and I can't just let him go off like this. Meet me for lunch, okay? Same place—your place. We'll celebrate." She flashed him a wicked grin, and then bounded for the door. "Tyser, I'm counting on you to get him drunk!" Without looking back, she left.

Gavin stared after her, a strange expression coming over his face. Tyser and Korben exchanged glances of their own. "Something wrong?" the former asked.

Gavin sighed, shaking his head to loosen the grim appearance in his features. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

"In that case," Korben spoke up, "I can offer only one token of my commendation." In two fingers he held up the last piece of bacon. "It's hot, crispy, and oozing with protein. You know you want it." Tyser sniggered in the background.

"I'll pass," the SOLDIER muttered in reply. He followed Willy's exit.

"Oh. Too bad." Korben popped the strip of meat into his mouth, making sure to crunch loudly as he savored the taste.

* * *

"Vincent! Vincent, wait!" Willy struggled into her coat as she chased after the man's rapidly escaping figure. Finally, having won her battle with the garment, she managed to catch up with him. Her pace settled to match his. "I said wait, you bastard. Making me run when it's this cold out."

Vincent didn't falter in step or tone as he calmly uttered, "Tampons."

She choked and stumbled, then righted herself so she could elbow him in the ribs. "What the hell?" she exclaimed weakly.

"And lipstick, and shaving cream, and a hair brush with hair entwined in it."

"I hope this isn't what you meant by "preparations," she muttered dryly.

"Those were the first things I saw when I went into the bathroom this morning," he explained at last. "You went shopping yesterday, and you left most of it in the sink."

"My tampons are none of your business!" Willy shouted, her cheeks reddening in furious embarrassment. The few people on the street turned toward her, drawn by the exclamation, and she quickly lowered her voice. "But what the hell does that have to do with anything?" she hissed. "And you'd better not be blushing, you pervert."

Vincent pursed his lips into a thin line. "I've lived in the same apartment with your for five years," he continued, not meeting her gaze. "When I wake up, I can smell you cooking breakfast. I hear you arguing with Korben, or drying your hair after a shower. Your things are everywhere—you clothes, your ridiculous furniture—"

"Hey."

"—your hair, your toothbrush, your very _smell_ is part of that apartment."

She couldn't tell if he was criticizing her or making a point. "So…."

"So now I'm going to live in the same house with her."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about finding her tampons, you sick little boy."

The Senior Turk sighed with frustration, coming to a halt so that he could face her at last; she was relieved, as his pace was not an easy one to keep up with. "Willy, don't you see? Whenever I see her I can think only of how much I love her—what can I do now? And if Hojo is there too, how am I supposed to hide it?"

Willy cringed, unaccustomed to the way his voice was raising now. It was a rare occasion that Vincent Valentine lost his cool. "Why didn't you tell Raile no?"

"Because the job requires a Senior Turk, and someone who knows the scientists. Raile's our leader—he can't take an extended assignment out of Midgar. It's my duty."

"And…?"

"And…." He sighed again, shaking his head. "She requested me."

_Damn that dull-witted, insensitive bitch!_ Willy thought bitterly. _Even if she doesn't realize she's stringing him along…that's no excuse! Someone should slap her around._

_Or should they…?_

"Hey Vince…are you going to tell her how you feel?"

Vincent didn't respond at first, appearing very deeply in thought. "I…don't know," he admitted. The insecurity in his voice was a bit unnerving to her. "If I tell her, it will change everything between us. But living with her…." He growled, and continued walking with a forward set gaze. Willy hurried to catch up. "You may not mind living with three men because we're your friends—we know you, trust you. But I don't trust Hojo with her." His face displayed a momentary scowl, but another thought caused the expression to soften. "And she can't trust me. I'm hiding things from her."

"It won't be so bad," Willy assured awkwardly. Personal space and privacy were never issues for her, and though she knew her friend well, she didn't understand how he could be so meticulous about his things sometimes. "If it's a mansion, you probably won't have to share a bathroom or anything."

"It's not just that—it's everything. People who live together learn things about each other. I'll see her every day at every meal, before she puts her make up on, and when she's relaxing all alone. All the things she doesn't show me willfully." He closed his eyes briefly, and when they opened once more his dark brown eyes were muddled with unpleasant thoughts. "It happened when I took you in. You remember, don't you? I almost couldn't stand it, and then we became closer. Living together like that forces people together or further apart. It's a decision people make out of trust and intimacy."

"Wow," she replied, somewhat awestruck by the emotion in his speech. "That was…almost romantic, Vincent."

"Yes, well, Lucretia's after romance of a different kind."

Willy took his arm, forcing him to stop. Her eyes commanded that he look at her directly. "Don't let that happen," she told him. "You can't become bitter, Vince. It'll eat you alive—I know. What happens will happen, and that's all." She took a deep breath, hoping she was giving him good advice. "If you love her," she started slowly, "then you won't hurt her. It's just like I said last night—take care of her. She doesn't know what she's getting into with Hojo."

"I know." Vincent turned his gaze away. "I know. It's…just hard to imagine. I mean…living with her like that."

"Are you going to be all right?"

He considered her question, his mouth turning in a frown. After a moment he sighed and nodded. "Yes. I can survive. Maybe in time…I'll cope."

"I'm sure you'll be okay." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "If worse comes to worst, you can call me, or ask Tyser to take over."

"I'll be all right."

"I know." She punched him mockingly in the stomach. "You're pretty tough. But you'd better go buy some extra socks, 'cause it's chilly in Nibelheim this time of year."

To her relief, Vincent chuckled. "You're right. I think I'll do that." He reached out and touched the top of her head. "Thanks for looking out for me."

"Hey, I owe you." Willy smiled, coaxing a similar reaction from him. "Now go on—I don't want you getting sick over there."

"Yes, yes." With a shake of his head he turned up his coat collar and began to move away.

"Now don't go get drunk!" she called after him. "And don't forget to pack your chocobo slippers!"

He waved without turning and continued on. Willy smiled grimly to herself as she watched him leave; though she would always show him a smiling face, internally she was fearful for her companion. He may have pulled her out of the slums, taught her to start over, but could he possibly do the same for himself? And if he told Lucretia how he felt…and if she rejected him….

She remembered the cards that foretold Vincent's fate, and shuddered. She didn't believe in fate and destiny—each person made their own decisions day by day, guiding the path of their own life. This she knew, as her own mistakes had led to her own downfall. But then, just when she'd begun to believe that her life was only someone's cruel joke, she'd found the courage to pull herself together. If fate had anything to do with her life, then it had brought Vincent to her.

_And now, was taking him back._

Willy shook her head. "No no no! That's stupid. Pull yourself together."

"Willy?"

A hand came down on her shoulder, and she spun, already preparing to smash whomever it was in the face. Her training, however, allowed her to recognize Gavin as the man before she attempted to break his nose. "Damnit, you scared me!" she exclaimed hoarsely, jabbing him in the ribs. "Sneaking up on people like that."

"I wasn't sneaking," he protested. The arrogant charm had vanished from his face and manner, as if "SOLDIER, Second Class" was a title spoken merely in fantasy, now forgotten. "Are you okay?"

Willy nodded. "Yeah, fine. I'm just worried about Vince. I…kinda have a bad feeling about this."

"I'm sure he'll be all right." He switched subjects suddenly. "Hey, we going out or what?"

Her repose was quickly thrust aside. "Why'd you have to get promoted on a day I'm actually on duty?" she whined. "Raile's coming to take us through Sereim today to go slum shopping." "Slum shopping" was a Turk term—they were actually going to clear out a hideout of suspected anti-Shinra. "I can get away for lunch, after briefing, but that's it."

"Sereim?" Gavin groaned. "There's a SOLDIER team going out there to help, I heard. I was assigned, but then they gave me the day off after my promotion."

"Damn. Someone's got it out for us." She pursed her lips. "Well, we'll just go out tomorrow and celebrate. How about—"

"Can't." Gavin shook his head, a look of disappointment spreading over his face. "Willy, there's something I gotta tell you." He fidgeted a bit. "This is my last day in Midgar for a while."

Willy turned on him instantly. "What? Why?"

"I'm being transferred," he said with a helpless shrug, and Willy's heart sank into her gut. "Tomorrow, to Junon Port. They're starting an entire damn city, and a lot of Second Class is going."

"No, not you, too." The female Turk stomped her foot, indulging herself in a childish temper tantrum. It was the only way to keep him from seeing how upset she actually was. How could Vincent _and_ Gavin leave her behind like this? "It's not fair; definitely 100% not fair! Damn the General and his idiotic assignments!"

* * *

Gavin watched as she continued to mutter curses, chewing on his bottom lip. He tried to catch a glimpse of her eyes; if he could see her eyes, then maybe he could reach the courage he'd been saving deep within his gut for this day. It was laughable to think that a member of SOLDIER—the strongest men in the world—could be a coward when it came to something like this. All he had to do was open his mouth and say the words he'd practiced the night before. One deep breath to calm himself, and then speak. That was all it would take.

Gavin's lips parted. He took a breath, and willed himself to expel it in the form of those rehearsed, sacred words. When the sound of his voice reached his ears, however, what he heard was not what he'd intended to say.

"I'm sorry."

Willy sighed, running her hand through her mousy brown hair. She wouldn't face him directly. "I know, but it's not your fault. A new city…it's a bit chance for you, isn't it? Being a captain…."

"Yeah. Really." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other; the knots in his stomach started to unwind once he realized that the time for decisions was over. The release of that tension was replaced by a deeper, more painful uncertainty residing in his ribs. Had there been any way to dissolve that agony as well he would have taken it, but a deep fear rooted to his being, and he could not find the strength.

Gavin held out his hand. "C'mon, Willy. I'll walk you back to your apartment."


	7. Chapter 7

Fearful Symmetry

Chapter 7: Exodus

* * *

Korben leaned against the window of the two-story tenant house, popping another cherry-flavored gummy bear into his mouth. He ignored the house's residents: a middle-aged coupe with no children. They were arguing loudly with Tyser over the intrusion to their home, while Raile and Willy spread their equipment out on the hardwood floor. The object of his focus was the smaller building directly beside them, supposedly abandoned. Signs posting the building's inevitable condemnation covered the aging structure. Korben knew from his briefing, however, that it was in reality the base of a growing Rebel faction. He chuckled to himself.

"You find this funny?" Raile asked from the floor, reloading his handgun.

"Damn funny," Korben replied, picking out another beautifully delicious fruit snack. "Here we are on a Monday afternoon, ready to play God with the lives of at least twenty family men, and these two—" he jerked his thumb at the couple "—are only worrying about whether or not we'll mess their crappy apartment."

"This is _our_ home!" the man declared angrily. "Paying for electricity from Shinra doesn't mean we should have to put up with—"

Tyser quickly intervened. "Please, sir, calm down. It's just this one time, and we won't harm anything." Korben laughed as the two began to argue once more.

Raile sighed and shook his head, returning to his work. Instead of rebuking the younger man he turned to Willy. "How are you doing?"

"Hmm?" She raised her head from her portable computer. "Oh, I'm fine. After briefing I met Gavin for lunch. We had some exercise—I feel great." She grinned, lifting her eyebrows suggestively.

Her leader shook his head again. "That was more than I wanted to know."

"You asked."

Tyser laughed, returning from his triumphant verbal battle. He crouched beside her. "Are you really okay?" he asked with a sudden note of seriousness. "With Jack and Ace…."

"I'm okay, really." Willy gave them all an assuring look. "Right now all I'm thinking about is busting some ass in there. How 'bout you?"

Still at the window, Korben shoved the bag of candy into his pocket. "Willy's got the right idea," he said, scooping an extra ammunition clip off the floor. "Are we ready or not? Our SOLDIER boys are waiting."

"Just remember your briefing," Raile advised, handing out clips, radios, and other pieces of equipment. "We play this as Clubs: the SOLDIERs, Tyser and I are Primary; Trust and Jay are Secondary. No back up on this, since there's only one exit."

"We heard it all," Korben muttered, already heading for the door. "Let's just do it, okay?"

To the Senior Turk's dismay, the other members of his team finished gathering their things and followed him out the door. With a final apology to the couple, he joined them outside.

The two SOLDIER members that would accompany them were waiting in the street, ignored by the other slum inhabitants despite the extent of their appearances. The first was a burly young man with sloppy black hair, his age exaggerated by the bulk of his stature. Strapped to his belt were over half a dozen daggers and knives, others doubtlessly hidden in his long sleeves and boots. Willy recognized his bold features as being those of Kem Arvon, Gavin's partner. Just when she was wondering where Gavin himself was, the other SOLDIER member turned. She caught her breath. "Gavin? But I thought—"

"I got myself back on," Gavin said, smiling at her surprise. "Thought we could do one more together—you know, like old times."

Willy grinned, but restrained herself from a more exuberant greeting when Raile caught her eye. "Can't wait. I'll be guarding your rear."

"Don't you always?" he laughed.

Raile came between them, the look on his face clearly showing his displeasure. "Frekes," he said firmly, "I appreciate the gesture and your sentimentality, but this was not a good idea. We're serious here."

Gavin regarded him with the same amount of seriousness. "I know, Sir. But you don't have to worry—we won't be distracted."

"Let's hope so." He cast them both a stern glare. "Now, let's get this over with."

* * *

The mission went smoothly, just as Gavin had assured. Raile and Kem took the lead, taking the brunt of the counter-attacks as Tyser and Gavin followed with gun and blade. For the most part Willy and Korben stayed back, keeping alert in case reinforcements arrived. Their sniper skills quickly disposed of any hidden rebels. There were fewer men than they'd anticipated, and soon the gunfire ended to an abrupt, eerie silence. Willy waved her hand in front of her face to clear the smoke. She surveyed the room: it was a large, empty basement stacked with crates along the sides. One large table took up most of the room in the center, covered with a few folders, as well as one computer.

"Not very impressive, is it?" Willy remarked. "They must not be as organized as the general thought."

"Check everything," Raile instructed, shoving his gun into his belt. He stepped over the bodies, and paused as the sound of his footsteps changed. Upon investigation he discovered a small trap door in the floor. He waved Korben over, who quickly picked the lock, then lowered himself inside.

"More crates," Korben reported from inside the dark sub-basement. "Looks like more weapons."

Willy moved to the room's only computer, pushing lightly on the shoulder of the man occupying its seat. The corpse slumped and fell to the ground with a dull thump. "Excuse me," she said coolly, slipping into the chair. As she'd hoped, the computer was undamaged and opened to its latest screen. "Not very smart, these guys," she said, her eyes dancing over the lines. "No guards, no computer safeties—not exactly a threat to Shinra. Lucky us."

"Don't be fooled," her leader advised. "All it takes is a few men to cause chaos."

"Righty-O." She didn't like his choice of words, but she let it slide. She pulled her laptop out of her shoulder bag and connected it to the computer; from there she began downloading every file that looked even slightly interesting. "Not much here…but oh, here's something." She hummed thoughtfully. "Blueprints, it looks like, to the plate going up over Sector Eight."

Gavin leaned over her, taking a look for himself. "They may not have been organized, but they must have had someone on the inside to get that," he said.

"Yeah. We'll have to check all these guys for ID." She paused, noticing that his hand on the back of her chair was bandaged. "Are you okay?"

"What, this? It's nothing." He worked his fingers, grimacing just barely. "It'll be gone in a few hours."

"Yeah, sure." She returned to the computer. "Why don't you help check? I can handle this."

"No problem."

An hour later their work had been completed, and Raile led everyone outside once more. Despite their tousled, bloodstained and suspicious appearance no one even turned a head. Sector Seven was accustomed to more troubling things that a group of Shinra returning from a slaughter, a fact that spoke greatly of the condition of the slums. Korben couldn't help but laugh with the observation. "Like cattle," he declared, retrieving his gummy bears. "Stupid beasts letting themselves be herded. Pathetic, isn't it? It wasn't this bad before the plate went up."

Her arm slung around Gavin's waist, Willy cast her gaze up to the expanse of metallic sky. "The plate's being constructed over every sector," she murmured. "I wonder if they'll all become like this."

"Not that there's anything we can do," Gavin replied. "Shinra does what it wants." He drew her closer to him as they headed for the train. "I suppose you have to make a report now, speaking of which."

"I'll be busy the rest of the day," she affirmed. They boarded the train and sat together; sensing the gravity of their situation, their comrades moved to the compartment's other end to allow them some privacy. "Shinra's nothing if not careful. As the Turk's Primary Technical expert, I'll have to go over all the stuff I downloaded at HQ."

"So I guess dinner's out of the question."

"I'm sorry."

The train whistle blew, and the pair fell silent as several more people boarded and they were underway. Willy looked out the window, watching the buildings, streets, and fading neon lights stretch past as horizontal blurs. She leaned against Gavin, hoping to memorize the feel of him before he was lost to her. Already she felt as if they'd been distanced, and she missed him. As they began to reach Sector One, where Gavin's apartment resided, her insecurity gathered to form a thick lump in her throat. Each declaration from the conductor brought them closer to farewell. At last the train slowed at Augim Station.

"Well, I guess this is it," Willy said as Kem stood and exited the train. "The guys and I gotta go on to HQ to make our official report to the general."

"Yeah." Gavin stood, pulling her with him. "Good luck, Willy. I'll miss you out there."

Rather than face down her already mounting dread, she kept her manner light. She wanted him to think of her that way. "Don't worry—this is just a 'see-ya-later,' not a 'good-bye.' You'll find some pretty beach girls, and when you come back we can hang out some more, okay? No worries." She kissed him, hoping that he wouldn't feel the desperation in her lips. "You'll be fine. We both will."

"Yeah, I guess we will." For her sake Gavin fit a smile into his expression. He let go of her hand and moved to exit the train after his partner. "Take care, Willow."

Willy started at the use of her name, and he would have seen the sudden formation of her tears had the train door not snapped shut behind them.

* * *

"Oh Vincent, isn't this exciting? It's going to be fantastic—all my favorite people together in the same place."

"It will be an adventure, to say the least."

"I can't wait until tomorrow! It's a good thing our flight's early, because I know I won't be sleeping. I'm too nervous."

"Well, I'm afraid I have some more packing to do. You'll forgive me if I leave the rest of the plane preparations to you…?"

"Oh, of course. I'm going to be up all night—I'll have it all taken care of."

"Don't work too hard." Vincent bid the woman scientist farewell. His earlier worries had all but disappeared; after having spent much of that day planning and organizing with her, a certain ease had fallen over him that nearly resembled confidence. Willy had given him a mission: to watch over Lucretia, to help and console her if she needed it. He'd been able to do the same with Willy herself, before. The simple structure of his task allowed him to focus, and control the emotional aspect. As long as he considered this an assignment as a Turk, he would be able to cope.

When he reached the apartment it was past midnight, but all the lights were still on. He entered, curious that his friends were all still awake. They greeted him heartily from around the short living-space table, all at once describing in exaggerated detail the missions that day. Vincent chuckled as three different stories quickly surfaced. "I'm sorry I missed your triumph," he said, shedding his coat and a bag of supplies he'd gathered. "But then, I don't regret missing all that work."

"Ugh, this is impossible!" Willy exclaimed suddenly, gripping the monitor of her computer as if to strangle it. "Stupid piece of crap!" With a frustrated growl she returned to pounding furiously at the keys.

"Turns out these supposed rebels were better than we thought," Korben whispered as Vincent took a seat beside him. "Their computer was full of all sorts of hidden, encrypted files. Willy's been at it for hours."

"Stupid, stupid, stupid code!" she declared abruptly as testimony to her impatience. "Who the hell came up with it anyway? When I find the scrawny little freak who made this thing…."

"Calm down, Queenie," Tyser advised. "You're gonna blow an artery."

"Not until I break this bitch."

The older man sighed, climbing to his feet. "In that case, I'll leave it to you. I'm too tired to keep this up." He extended his hand to Vincent. "I probably won't see ya—four a.m. is a time I rarely see. Take care."

"You too," Vincent replied. "Stay out of trouble."

"Yeah, right." He winked, stretching as he moved away. "That goes double for you."

Korben also stood, ready for a rest himself. "I don't like long good-byes," he said easily, "so I'll just say see-ya-later. Be a good boy."

To this the senior Turk lifted an eyebrow. "Watch out for yourself," he advised in turn.

"No problem there."

Vincent sighed, shaking his head. When the two men had gone he turned to Willy, watching as her fingers worked without sign of letting up. "Aren't you going to bed?" he asked. "It's past midnight."

"No." Willy continued to type, her face set in an expression of unrelenting ferocity. "Not until I've finished this. The bitch's going down."

"You might think better in the morning."

She shook her head. "No. I told you, I'm not stopping."

Vincent stared at her, puzzled by the tenacity she was displaying; though Willy enjoyed her work, she was rarely motivated enough to lose sleep over it. He noticed then that she was still in her Turk's suit, and her hair had been let down—another vagary in her behavior. He reached out, with two fingers turning her jaw so that she was facing him. She stopped typing. Her eyes sought his hesitantly, and in them he could see the presence of something she was attempting to hide.

"What happened today?" he asked quietly, removing his hand. "Other than the mission."

Willy stared back at him, the solid expression she'd been so skillful in constructing now melting before his eyes. "I…." Her voice drained away, trapped within her dry mouth. She forced herself to speak. "It's…Gavin. He's leaving."

Vincent took his next breath slowly, though his comprehension was instantaneous. "Relocated?" he hazarded.

"Yes. To Junon." He could see her throat constricting, the muscles of her neck and jaw tightening in restraint. "We don't know exactly how long—at least a year, while the city…."

Willy stopped abruptly as a tear spilled over her bottom eyelid and onto her cheek. "Damnit," she muttered, quickly wiping it away. "I'm sick of this." But another followed, and before she realized what was happening she was crying. She swiped at the falling droplets, covered her eyes and mouth as if to drive away her sorrow through pure strength of mind. When Vincent eased her closer, however, she began to sob. "No, I'm stronger than this," she choked through her despair and frustration. "I promised myself…I wouldn't, but…."

Vincent didn't say anything. He wasn't very good at this, and he couldn't say things to comfort people as Willy did. But his presence was enough—for him to stay by her was proof enough of his care. It had always been that way between them. Now more than ever he wanted to say something—anything to help—but he couldn't think of anything meaningful.

"I…don't know what's wrong with me," Willy said after a while, scrubbing the tears away. "I…wanted to tell him to not go. But I didn't." She sighed. "We've known each other for so long that I sometimes take him for granted, I guess. I thought we could stay the way we've been forever." She shook her head. "I don't even know what I'm thinking."

Vincent smiled, then chuckled a bit ironically. "You and I are so different," he murmured, "and yet we always end up with the same problems."

"Yeah. I guess…I really love him." She paused, and laughed at herself. "I'm okay. I promised myself I wouldn't do this just before you left. It's not fair to you."

"You've always helped me," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but…you won't be here for a while." For a moment it looked as if she would slip back into her melancholy, but she took a deep breath to regain her composure and went on. He silently praised the strength she'd built up over the years. "I want to be able to handle myself. I wanted to take care of myself, and say good-bye to you, still smiling."

Vincent tapped her cheek with his finger. "And you are," he said, he himself smiling. "When I think of you out there, I'll remember that."

Willy gave him a warm hug. "Oh Vince, you're so sweet," she declared, fairly choking him. "I'm gonna miss you!"

"I'll miss you all, too. But I'll write." He helped her to her feet. "As soon as I get there. Is that fair enough?"

"You're the best." She gave him one more hug and a bright smile before heading off to her room. "I'll finish the code in the morning. Goodnight, Vincent!"

Vincent sighed to himself, listening to her fumble about in her room as he went to work on his packing. The task didn't take long, as he had few personal items that would be necessary to bring. At some point he heard the click of Willy's lights being turned off. When the preparations were complete he had nothing to do, but rather than sleep for a mere three hours, he settled in the couch and looked over Willy's computer findings. _She'd be furious if I broke this,_he thought to himself, studying the dozens of lines of intricate code.

_No. She doesn't need me to look after her anymore._ Vincent smiled to himself and went to find himself a snack.

* * *

It wasn't until four hours later, seated on the plane to Nibelheim, that Vincent noticed a bulge in the side of his travel bag. Though he was exhausted from having not slept at all that night, curiosity overwhelmed his fatigue and guided him to an investigation. In the seat beside him, Lucretia glanced over questioningly as he began to rummage through the knapsack. Her eyes were bright and attentive; he envied her amount of energy. "What are you looking for?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted, hands finally closing over a brown paper bag he didn't remember packing. Scrawled sloppily on the front was "Vincent's Survival Kit."

Lucretia looked it over carefully. "That's not yours…is it?" she asked doubtfully.

"He chuckled faintly and shook his head, though not as response to her question. "Willy must have," he murmured thoughtfully. "But when could she have…." He decided that it would do him no good to ponder the issue: acceptance would be much simpler.

"Willy's a friend of yours, isn't he?"

"She is, yes." Vincent opened the bag. There was no note; only an assortment of items. He pulled them out one by one, noting the instant label machine-made tags attached to each which specified who was responsible.

The first was obvious: a picture of the five of them after their first mission labeled "Tyser's Deck." Lucretia looked on delightedly as he removed the rest: a bag of gummy bears and instant artificial strawberry milkshake from Korben; a deck of playing cards from Tyser; the Shinra personnel handbook and a "sight-seeing in the mountains" guide from Raile; and from Willy, a pair of chocobo slippers and a plastic, pin-on button which read "Kiss me, I'm an optimist."

Lucretia giggled, and she insisted one pinning it to the front of Vincent's suit. He groaned but relented. As she was doing so she noticed something else written on the paper bag. "'Look in the slippers for a surprise from me and Tyser,'" she read.

Vincent didn't like the sound of that. He reached for the slippers, but she beat him to them and reached inside the toe of the right foot. The Turk waited nervously as she removed the "surprise."

A pack of condemns and a tampon.

Vincent snatched the items away and quickly confined them to the bag once more, but it was too late—Lucretia had seen them. She giggled in embarrassment, which soon escalated into a fit of laughter. "Vincent, you have the most interesting friends!" she declared, receiving several annoyed looks from the other half-sleeping scientists.

Vincent replaced his things, his head tilted so that she wouldn't see the red tint in his face. "Um, yes. I suppose…" he murmured, hoping to find a suitable way to change the subject. Lucretia, however, had no such intention; she teased him the entire way to Nibelheim.


	8. Chapter 8

Fearful Symmetry

Chapter 8: Vortex

* * *

_October twenty-seventh_

_Dear Willy,_

_As you can see, we made it to Nibelheim. The mansion is actually more suited to my tastes than I had expected, as it is a bit dark, but clean from having not been lived in before. My room is small, which I prefer. The rest of the mansion, however, is quite large and advanced in its equipment, or so Lucretia tells me. She, by the way, has been the very picture of enthusiasm. I'm sure you would have plenty to say concerning her passion for genetics, if I correctly remember your success in our human biology course in Shinra._

_Nibelheim is a very small town. The people are kind enough but seem wary of our presence here. The mountains are very beautiful, as is the snow; however, I would most likely enjoy the scenery more if the mansion's heating system was functioning correctly._

_In my next letter I'll be sure to send you a souvenir, as promised, as well as something for Korben and Tyser. Speaking of which, thank you for the "survival kit." I keep all of your gifts in my room. Except for one. I'll let you think about that for a while._

_Sincerely,_

_Vincent_

* * *

_Nov 2_

_Dear Vince_ Jack V_ince_

_Hey, it's me. The guys are here_ Hi _and they're being a pain in hey the ass. We got your letter._ Which one did you save? I want a swirly snow globe. And not

_Anyway, things here are really good. _We've been busting the slum scum's collective asses! _Tyser's having too much fun for his own good._ Cause he's on Pollen_and Korben's on something worse_. He hasn't scored in months.

_Would you believe I love these guys?_ We miss you Vinnie You know we love you too, Jack.

_Oh, and I cracked that code! Remember, the impossible one? It wasn't so bad. Getting the guys behind it will be harder, but we're working on it. We'll save some for you, if you're lucky_.

_That's it. We'll send you survival kit refills later on, so hang tight. Midgar is in good hands._

_Luv Willy_,

Dealer

God Duce K

PS. Willy is

_Bye_

* * *

_December thirteenth_

_Dear Willy_

_Professor Gast has been complaining about the phone bills, so I thought I would write instead. I apologize if my penmanship is not as recognizable as usual, as my fingers are a bit numb from the cold. Even though the heating was repaired and is functioning properly, the entire mansion is still cold; my room, closest to the basement, receives a substantial breeze from the outside._

_The truth is, I've been dealt a severe problem: Lucretia has married Hojo. A week ago. So as not to disturb their work they had a small ceremony in Nibelheim, and are considering the mansion their honeymoon. Willy, I am sure you are concerned about me. I can only assure you that I am all right, as my concern has outweighed my personal failure. Gast is preparing an experiment. He hasn't proposed any official procedure as of yet, and I won't know anything for certain until his report for the President is made, but I suspect Lucretia is involved somehow. She speaks often of how correct Korben's fortune was. Naturally this reminds me of the card of sacrifice she pulled. My only consolation is that she did not pull the same demon card as I did._

_Mostly likely I am disturbing you with this, and I apologize. I will call soon to discuss this further in person. I believe writing my concerns helps to settle them in my mind. For now, be assured of my well-being. I have not given anything up yet, Willy._

_Sincerely,_

_Vincent_

* * *

_April 17_

_Hey Vince, how you holding up? Things must be real tough out there, but I know you'll be strong. Ever since your last call I've been wondering about you, hoping you'll take care of yourself. Raile's getting down on me—says to stop worrying and focus on work. Plate construction was stopped on Venuus again this month, 'cause of the terrorists, and Junon's been having some problems too with them. It's weird how we refer to them as "terrorists" now. I've been worrying about Gavin, too. It's been a while since we talked. But I'm sure he's doing fine. We hear about him from the General sometimes. I think he's doing okay. Korben's the one I'm worried about. He's been acting kind of strange lately. Kind of distant._

_Anyway, take care. How's Lucretia? Maybe it's not the best subject, but you're taking care of her, right? She needs that, 'cause carrying a baby's hard stuff. But then, you probably realized that by now. I hope she's not working you too hard._

_Lots of Luv,_

_Willy_

* * *

_August twenty-third_

_Willy,_

_The baby is just about due. I discovered Dr. Gast's plan only recently; during the infant's third month he injected cells from an Ancient into it. They intend to create a person with the powers of the Ancient Cetra. I would have spoken to you over the phone, but as you can imagine this information is not to be taken lightly. I shouldn't even be telling you, but I had to share this. The treatments have begun to affect Lucretia, and I fear for her life. Though I begged her not to trust Hojo so much from the beginning, she has no intention of going back on her decisions. I'm forced to watch as her body is slowly degraded. I'm sorry I couldn't do what you asked me to do, Willy. I couldn't prevent this. But I think I may be able to repair my mistakes once the child is born._

_I may not be able to write for some time. Please take care, and don't worry. I'll contact you when I can._

_Sincerely,_

_Vincent_

* * *

Willy stared down, somewhat shocked, at the letter in her hand. Over the past year she'd listened to Vincent's assumptions and concerns, not quite believing. She had put her faith in technology and guns, and the things men and women could do with them, but science was something else. She didn't understand how a person could be "made" by humans, as if constructed like one of Korben's puzzles. Reading over the letter, however, filled her with a mysterious kind of dread.

A year. It had felt like a long, nearly impossible length of time. Had so many things truly changed? Even hearing Vincent's voice over the phone didn't help to calm her much anymore, as he spoke only of his Lucretia. Though Tyser had remained the constant, casual friend for her, Korben had been drifting further away, and Raile was stricter than ever. But most of all she missed Gavin—it had been months since she'd received a letter or even spoken to him.

The apartment door was thrown open suddenly, and Willy's head snapped up. Korben entered; she forced herself to relax. When she looked at him, however, her tensions returned.

Korben's head was down. His suit was unclean, his hair a tangled mess, his eyes bloodshot and skin pale. Though Vincent's absence had changed them all, she hadn't expected Korben to be so drastically affected. The months of terrorist battles had weighed heavily in his mind, and she could almost see his personality reverting. He reminded her of a slum baby, the way they had found him.

"Hey, Korben," Willy called as he entered, heading deliberately across the main room. "You okay?"

"Fine," he snorted in reply, swift strides carrying him to the bathroom. His manner was brisk, almost nervous. "Gavin's back."

"What?" She found that she was now standing, and she couldn't help but turn in circles in investigation. She saw no one, and heard no one coming up the stairs to their apartment. Once the initial shock had worn off she bounded after her friend. "Did you say Gavin? He's back?"

"I saw him." Korben was in the bathroom, rummaging through his pockets as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. "I was in Mordrina today. I saw him at Mindy's."

"Mindy's?" Willy frowned. Though the café wasn't an unusual place for men to go, she didn't expect someone like Gavin to go alone. "How come he hasn't come over?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Say's he's been in for a week." He finally located the object of his search: a small orange bottle that sported a blank label. He twisted the cap and emptied a small yellow pill into his hand. "He got bumped to First Class."

"Really? Damnit, why didn't he…." She frowned, and though her heart was leaping for Gavin joyously she was upset at his not contacting her. He'd finally come back—shouldn't he have called by now? It wasn't like him to avoid her and keep secrets.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Korben's sudden gasp, and the sound of the pill bottle hitting the floor. Willy was startled to see him bent over the sink, gripping the porcelain bowl as if his legs suddenly could not support him. "Korben?" She touched his shoulder; he was trembling, and his breath wheezed. He shook his head violently. "Hey, Korben—"

"I'm fine." Slowly the Turk straightened. His eyelids fluttered for a moment as if adjusting to the light, and he was still trembling somewhat, but he appeared stable. He shook his head again. "I'm fine, Will. Just…." His voice dropped in pitch and ceased as he moved with a stumbling stride toward the door. "…tired. I'm tired." With on hand on the wall for support he started for his room.

Willy stared at him, wondering at the swiftness in his change of behavior. When she began to follow her toe tapped something. She bent down, discovering the pill bottle. Several pea-sized yellow spheres had escaped its interior and were spread across the floor. Upon closer inspection she found that one had be cracked open; it bled a pale yellow powder.

For a moment she could only stare in shock at the substance, appalled and confused. She'd seen those pills before: the drug, "Pollen" as it was known, had circulated through Midgar's dark alleys and slums for years. She'd never used it, as experience with those who had was enough to frighten her away from it as a child. The drug was a potent hallucinogen, and often times lethal.

"Korben?" Willy scooped up the pills and threw them into the toilet, enjoying a moment of angry satisfaction as they swirled around and then disappeared forever. But she knew replacing them wouldn't take long. She quickly pursued her companion.

Korben was lying on his back on the floor of the room he and Tyser shared, no doubt lost in some illusion created by the drug. His eyes were wild but also clouded. If she demanded an explanation now, he most likely wouldn't even comprehend.

_Maybe he'll understand pain._

Willy kicked him sharply in the side. He only flinched, turning his wide, anxious eyes on her. He laughed sharply and then ignored her.

"Korben, what the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked, trying to restrain herself from shouting. "How long have you been doing this shit?"

To her mild surprise, Korben was able to give her a sensible answer. "March," he replied, his words quick, though marred by his numb lips. "Since March."

"Since _March_? But…how the hell…."

"Ya' need…to look better." He waved his hand drunkenly, and a foolish grin spread across his thin lips. "In the bears."

It took Willy a moment to under stand what he'd said, but when she did, the realization felled her to her knees. _My God, he's been slipping it in those damned gummy bears! But…he only eats them before a mission…._ "Korben, you could've been killed!" she shouted suddenly, her fear rising. "Isn't our job bad enough not being drugged up? What the hell were you thinking?" She cursed several times over at her own obliviousness. How could he have hidden this for so long?

Korben reached clumsily into his Jacket spilling, his deck of fortune cards over his stomach. "Helps me see," he murmured, turning them with his fingers. "I see things. Chaos…Chaos is close."

"What are you _talking_ about?" she nearly sobbed; injustice, frustration, anger, and fear raged within her, and she didn't know what to do. "Korben, you…you idiot! Raile's gonna kick your ass—you'll be kicked out of the Turks!"

_No, worse than that. Turks don't get "fired." They get "dealt with."_

Willy rose to her feet once more and began to pace, her mind spinning. "Damnit, you shit. How could you? Why?" Her stomach began to twist in knots. "Stupid, stupid! What are you going to do? What if Raile figures it out, or the General? Then what will you do?"

"It doesn't matter." His hand closed around the card of the red-eyed demon. "No, it doesn't."

She was about to start shouting again when she heard the sound of the apartment door opening. "Shit. I hope that's not…." She quickly left the room, hoping against hope that it wasn't their superior. If the general found out that Korben was messing with drugs, he'd be killed—because of the Turks' access to so much top-secret information, agents weren't allowed to quit or go off on their own. And if Korben wasn't living up to potential….

Willy stopped dead when she saw who was standing in the apartment, clad in the same uniform she remembered from nearly a year ago. Gavin was looking about, taking note of the state of disarray with a look of indifference. Slowly, he turned to face her. "Hey."

"Hey." All her earlier worries and fears fled at the sight of him, and with a joyous cheer she ran and threw her arms around him. "Oh Gavin, thank God you're back!" she cried, laughing almost hysterically. "I missed you so much! How are you? Did you really make First Class? Was it hard? What about Kem?"

"Calm down," Gavin instructed. He eased her back. "No need for that."

Willy was too overcome by elation to note the strange tone on his voice. "God, you look good," she said, looking him over. "Looks like you bulked up a bit." She giggled, her gaze coming to rest on his eyes. They seemed to glow even brighter than before, with more depth than she remembered. The almost unnatural beauty they held was startling. "Your eyes are different," she remarked.

"Yeah, I got some treatment done," Gavin replied. His voice was also noticeably deeper, though his tone was cold. She noticed then that he didn't appear pleased in the least at having met her again.

"Gavin, is something wrong?"

"No, not really." He was gazing past her, and she followed the direction of his eyes: Korben's room. "Hey, what's Korben up to?"

Willy sighed, and shook her head. She didn't want to explain, but she could trust Gavin with this. She certainly couldn't trust Tyser with a secret of any kind. "Korben's having problems," she said. "He came in a minute ago, and…." She paused. "Wait—what did you call him?"

Gavin sidestepped her and started toward the room. His steps were silent as he walked, his movements smooth, like those of a practiced predator. Something was different about him—something wrong. Willy knew him intimately, which included the way he was supposed to act. He never called Korben by his first name.

"Gavin, wait," Willy called after him. "What—"

He threw open the door to Korben's room with a loud thud. More surprising than this was the outcry accompanying the action. When Willy approached she found a peculiar scene; Korben was backed against the wall, on his face a look of pure terror that she'd never seen on him. His cards were strewn about him like blood from a wound, and his eyes streaked from them to Gavin wildly. Gavin didn't appear the least bit affected by his odd behavior, nor the fear in his expression.

"Hello there, Korben Jay," Gavin drawled, a smirk turning up the ends of his mouth that caused Korben to tremble. "You didn't have to run away before. I was just saying hello."

Korben didn't even attempt to speak, concentrating too hard on simply taking each gasping breath. His hand slid across the ground, searching for something. The cards were turned and scattered by his groping reach.

"Oh, what's this one?" Gavin plucked one of the cards off the floor, studying it casually. "Oh yeah, I remember." He turned the picture toward Korben. "What was its name again?"

"Ch-Chaos," Korben stuttered, his back attempting to defy the solidity of the apartment walls. "Damnation."

Gavin laughed sharply; it was a wicked sound, one that caused Willy's flesh to crawl and Korben to yelp in fear. "Yeah, that was it. My supposed end, huh?" He laughed again, and crouched down in front of the Turk. "Who's making the jokes now, Jay?" His voice had grown suddenly serious. "You laughed at me before. 'Turks outrank SOLDIER' was your motto. But look at me now." He snorted. "Now I'm in charge."

Korben stared blankly for a moment, suspended in movement and breath. His eyes rolled upward into his skull, and slowly, he inhaled deeply. Willy jumped as he began to scream; it was a long, pitiful wail of distress that echoed through the room. When his breath ran out he merely took another and began anew, crying like a madman.

Gavin chuckled and stood upright once more. He muttered something under his breath that Willy couldn't hear above her comrade's anguished voice. He exited the room without hesitation or discomfort.

At last Willy jarred to life, her thoughts beginning to fit into place now that the shock had worn off. Korben was still screaming but she chose to follow Gavin, as he was swiftly heading for the door. "Gavin!" She had to shout to be heard. "What the hell is going on? What did you do to Korben? Damnit, answer me!"

"We're through, Willy," Gavin replied coldly. His deep eyes burned into her skin. This was not the same Gavin she knew. "The truth is, I really loved you. For a long time, I did, but to you I was just a pathetic toy. Your entertainment." He scowled in resentment.

Willy gasped, unable to take everything that was happening. "But Gavin, I—"

"When I was transferred, I even thought about asking you to come. The General said he wouldn't transfer you for being my girlfriend, but he could transfer you as my wife."

Her heart skipped several beats, and she almost had to remind it to keep going. "Gavin," she whispered hoarsely, "why didn't you tell me? I…I would have…."

Gavin laughed at her scornfully. "Sure you would have. That would've gotten me for sure. But it's a good thing I didn't ask. I've had time to think. You're worthless, Willow." Each cruel word staggered her. "You're a slut. I'm stronger now, and I don't need you." He chuckled. "But if I ever need a quick f—k, I'll let you know." He waved and continued out of the apartment. "See ya' around."

Then he was gone, and the room fell silent.

Willy stood there for a long time, staring blindly at the door. "Come back…" she whispered. She felt as if she'd been shot. She was lying on her back in the slums, the sickening feel of her blood emptying out from her body blocking out her every conscious thought. The pain was so great that no single wound had been gored; she was riddled with the metal-torn holes, like one of the corpses in a Club's mission. She'd seen bodies lying prone this way, their eyes dull as they searched a dark, twisted-iron heaven for redemption. Only now did she know their agony, waiting to either be saved or condemned.

The sound of an intermitted tone pulled Willy slowly from her devastation. It was her cellular. Her hand closed around it, fumbling to turn it on. After a bit of struggling she managed to raise the device to her ear. "Y-Yes?"

"Willy, it's Raile," came the response. "The President has asked to see us with the General. Is Korben with you?"

_Oh God, Korben…._ "Raile, I…I can't be there right now. Korben's…he's sick. It's pretty bad."

"Tell him to gut it out," was her boss's reply. "This is an important assignment, and he wants us all there."

"But…I don't think…."

"That's right—don't think." He sounded unusually tense, and she wondered how important of an assignment it must be. "Get him down here, if he wants to keep his job."

She closed her eyes. "Alright. He'll be there."

"Good. I'll see you soon, then." And he hung up.

Willy ran her hand through her hair, dropping the phone. The fear of a displeased president _and_ general forced her to collect herself despite Gavin's cruel treatment. Later she would try to make sense of it all. She quickly changed into her Turk's suit and went to find her comrade.

Korben was in the same position as when she'd left; sitting against the wall, head lolled back, eyes wide and vacant. She knelt beside him and lightly slapped his cheek. "Hey, Korben," she coaxed. Pollen was a fast-acting drug, and its dangerous effects usually wore off quickly. "Come on, it's me: it's Willy." After a moment she added, "Gavin's gone. You're okay now. Come on, Korben."

Korben's eyes gradually focused on her face, and she wondered if he even recognized her. "Gone?" he echoed faintly.

"Yes, Korben, he's gone. Are you okay?"

"Getting there." He blinked rapidly, allowing reality to flood back into his mind. The memory caused him to shudder. "God…I…." He expelled his breath in a low sigh and fell silent.

Willy mirrored this action, then recalled her recent assignment. "The President wants to see us. And General Sines. Can you make it? You're still high."

Korben didn't reply for a long time, his fingers twitching. "Get me some water," he murmured at last.

She did, and helped him to drink several glasses as he waited the drug out. Under the insistence that he would be all right she tidied his suit for him and they started for Shinra HQ. "I'll…explain everything later," he said quietly. "When I understand."

"Yeah." She bit her lip, willing her emotions to settle before they reached the President's office.


	9. Chapter 9

Fearful Symmetry

Chapter 9: Twin Dragon Mreg

* * *

To Willy's relief, Tyser was waiting for them on the first floor of Shinra Headquarters. "Finally. You guys sure put your asses on the line." He frowned when he saw that Korben was depending on Willy's help to walk. "Hey, what happened? You drunk?"

"Something like that," Willy replied wearily, motioning for him to take her place. He did, and she took a moment to stretch. "He's a little less that clear, okay? We'll talk later."

The blond man was still frowning—he must have noticed that Korben was still trembling—but he didn't argue and helped his friend into the elevator. Once inside, Korben sagged against the glass wall. He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"I gotta warn you about something," Tyser said as the glass cylinder began to ascend. His voice had lost it usually cheery tone and become grim. "This job we're being assigned to…might have to do with Gavin."

_No. No more._ Willy pressed her hands against the smooth, transparent surface to keep them from shaking. "Vincent, why aren't you here?" she whispered despairingly. She licked her dry lips with an equally dry tongue, and closed her eyes. Vincent always kept a straight face and a clear head. He treated each problem with logic and skill, and he never lost his cool.

But Vincent wasn't there now.

Which meant that Willy had to do it herself: Because Tyser was a damn fine Turk but not the smartest of men; and though Raile often acted with compassion for his friends, Gavin's behavior and Korben's mistakes would quickly list both men as unforgivable. The leader of the Turks was strict if nothing else.

"Willy?"

"I'm okay, Tyser." Willy leaned away from the glass wall. "But there's something you should know."

The elevator announced their arrival on the 30th floor with a soft ping, and the door slid open. "Save it," he told her. "Just brace yourself, okay?" He glanced at Korben. "You okay, pal?"

Korben, who had been staring at the thirty-foot drop outside the elevator with fascination, managed to push away from the wall and walk on his own. "I'll live," he muttered, stepping into the President's massive office. His two friends followed a moment after.

"So, you finally decided to join us," grumbled General Sines from behind the president's desk. He was a tall, thickly built man with wide-set eyes that were nearly crushed beneath a pair of heavy, rusty-gray eyebrows. Once he'd been an energetic, glory-seeking red-headed soldier; age and the strains of living in Midgar had conformed his spirit to match the iron labyrinth's rugged and demanding center. "I don't want to hear excuses. We've wasted enough time as it is."

"We apologize, sir." As the Senior Turk it was Raile's responsibility to answer for all of them.

"I'm sure you do," said the President. His elbows were braced on his desk, chin resting on folded hands. "But let's not lose focus. General."

The General lifted a vanilla folder off the President's desk and began to flip through its pages. "This mission is somewhat different than what you're used to: it's an assassination. I realize that your best sniper, Valentine, is off an assignment, but this won't require dead-eye accuracy. I do, however, want all four of you on it."

"All four of us, sir?" Raile repeated questioningly. Usually only one or two Turks were assigned to a sniper assassination.

"Yes, all of you. Your target is a member of SOLDIER."

Raile nodded; Tyser lowered his head; Korben merely blinked; Willy held her breath. Her hands, trained to her sides, curled tightly.

"His name is Kem Arvon," General Sines continued, and Willy kept herself from sighing openly in relief. When she remembered who Kem's partner was, however, her mood darkened once more. "I believe you've worked with him before. He's a First Class SOLDIER member, partner to Gavin Frekes. We also have reason to believe that he's the one leaking information to the terrorists."

"As you know," the President interrupted, "I take this matter seriously. I won't accept traitors to my company."

"Of course, sir," Raile replied tightly, "but why not send another SOLDIER member?" His real concern was the First Class title attached to the name of their target. SOLDIER members were trained to be perfect, and the highest ranking officers were some of the strongest, most elite fighters in the world.

General Sines handed over the file. "There's something else you need to know," he said authoritatively. "Last night Arvon was assigned to guard the Sector Three plate construction along with two other Third Class officers. There was a rebel attack, and though they ultimately were driven off, nearly a dozen were killed, including the two Third Class SOLDIERs. And they weren't shot."

Willy closed her eyes briefly, recalling what she knew about Kem Arvon. She knew him to be a quiet youth who was very serious about his work. She couldn't imagine him doing the things General Sines was implying. But then, no one was acting normally.

"Since then he's gone missing," the General continued. "I doubt he's left the city yet. Your job is to locate and eliminate him."

A moment of silence passed among the Turks. Then Raile said, "Understood, sir."

"Arvon was last seen in Sector Three. When you find him, I don't recommend approaching."

"Yes, sir."

The President unfolded and then refolded his hands. "I expect swift results, Mr. Raile. Don't disappoint me."

"No need to worry, sir. It'll be take care of." All five Turks straightened in unison and nodded agreement and then, as one unit, moved silently to the door. Only Korben's hint of lethargacy offset their precision as they exited the President's office.

Raile pressed the elevator button for the lobby, then turned to his Turks. "I know you dislike this as much as I do," he said gravely, "but you heard the General. Kem Arvon is dangerous, and it is our responsibility to handle this."

"I'm stumped as to why Kem'd do this," muttered Tyser. "He's a good guy, and I didn't think he'd ever betray Shinra."

"It is strange," his boss agreed as the elevator descended. "But I'm afraid we can't hope for explanations."

Leaning her back against the glass, Willy took a deep breath. She glanced at Korben, wondering if he intended to speak, then decided to do the job herself. "There's something I have to tell you," she said quietly. "Gavin might be involved."

Raile's attention fell upon her quickly. "Why's that?"

"Because I saw him earlier, and he was acting strange." She cast her gaze to the far edge of the plate, where the last vestiges of orange day could be seen. "He wasn't himself. His eyes have changed, and he…" She broke off, not wanting to speak of his harsh words.

She was saved from having to explain by Korben's soft interjection. "Something was done to him," he murmured. "He's been changed. Whatever made Kem do these things is part of Gavin Frekes as well."

"What do you mean?" Raile demanded. "What was done?"

Korben kept his head down. Though he had all but recovered from the drug, he was still unsteady on his feet from his previous experiences. "I…should tell you all," he said at long last. "You should know."

"Know what?" Tyser prompted.

"Let's go back to the apartment. I'll explain there."

* * *

Despite Raile's impatience, Korben insisted on doing things his way. He sat on the floor at the short living-room table, legs crossed and eyes down on his deck of cards. The others seated themselves around the table in anxious silence. After a considerable amount of time the newest Turk retrieved his deck, shuffled, and placed four cards face up on the wood. The first was Amphorus, the One-Winged angel; the second looked like a glowing skeleton, draped loosely in pieces of flesh; next was a dragon, its thin body colored white; the last was Chaos.

"I used to live with my parents and grandparents, far away from here," he began in a subdued tone. "My grandmother could tell the future, like I can, but she didn't need cards. She could sense people's feelings and listen to voices from the Earth. She…was a Cetra."

"A Cetra?" Tyser repeated, puzzled. "That some kind of disease?"

"More commonly known as the Ancients," Raile explained. "The original inhabitants of this planet." He stared at Korben thoughtfully. "You're an Ancient?"

"Sort of. My grandmother was, but my grandfather wasn't, and my mother was human. So I'm only about one fourth Ancient." He inhaled deeply and continued. "There aren't many left. But that's not what matters." He gestured to the cards with a wave of his hand. "I'm not very good with Ancient stuff unless I have help, like these. I came up with them—most of them—on my own, and some are people I've met, like Mindy. But these four are different. Amphorus, Pawn, Serramph, and Chaos; immortality, vulnerability, self, and…damnation. I had no real motive or inspiration in creating them. I never gave them much thought, because they rarely show up. But now…."

"I hope this has something to do with our mission," their leader interrupted.

"It does." He took a sip from the glass of water Willy had brought for him. "I read Kem's fortune after that day I read Gavin's. He pulled Chaos. Everyone did, but they all pulled it on the first draw. I figured it out." He lowered his head. "The problem is me. I think I've been picking up the psychic waves from some being."

Raile and Tyser exchanged baffled looks, clearly becoming annoyed with the ridiculousness of Korben's explanation. "I think you're tripping," said the latter.

Willy bit her lip and didn't speak. Korben remained silent for a moment before elaborating. "It _is_ possible," he told them slowly. "Ever since Vincent pulled Chaos, since he met Lucretia and was relocated, something's happened. In March, something happened. I'm telling you, there's something here, in this city, that doesn't belong. It's…." He shook his head almost violently. "It's driving me out of my skull."

Willy was stirred to defend him from their elders' dubious looks. "He's not making it up. When Gavin came here today, he wasn't himself. If you'd seen Korben's reaction, you'd believe him."

"So what exactly are you trying to say?" asked Tyser. "That Frekes's a freak, and Arvon's really a psychic being?"

"I'm saying that they've changed somehow," he responded, his voice becoming strained. "It's something unnatural—inhuman, even. And it has to do with these four cards."

Raile sighed, clearly unimpressed, and climbed to his feet. "I've had enough."

Korben raised his head. "I'm telling the truth!" he cried. "You don't understand—whatever this thing is, it's got more on its mind than Shinra politics and plate construction."

The head Turk crouched down, swiftly grabbing the man by the collar of his suit and dragging him to his feet. "I told you, that's enough," he said in a harsh, low tone, startling them all. "You think I haven't figured out what you've been doing, Jay? I've been covering your ass for a long time, but this is the end. Cut the bullshit and keep yourself clean for once or I'll have you taken care of." He let go, and Korben sank slowly to the couch. "Now, you heard the general. We take Arvon out, and then question Gavin. All of us. I want all three of you at Mordrina Station in one hour, got it?" His eyes snapped on each in turn, waiting until they'd given him a nod of approval. Korben's affirmation was hesitant, but he wouldn't argue. "Good. Now get ready; we place this by Spades." With an air of superiority he left.

"Geez, what was that?" Tyser muttered, frowning thoughtfully. He turned to his friends. "What was he talking about?"

Willy moved over to Korben and put a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. "Raile's family is in Sector Three," she reminded them. "If something had happened to the plate construction, they could have been killed. This is personal for him." She looked at Korben, and found herself staring at a dejected, terrified man. "Korben," she asked quietly, "is that all? What do you think happened to Kem and Gavin?"

Korben gulped, trying to collect his thoughts. "I'm not sure," he replied at long last. "But there's something in them that doesn't belong. Something awful. I…don't know if I could face it again."

Willy sighed, clasping his shoulder to give him strength. "Korben, I know you can handle it. You just have to pull yourself together. You're a Turk, right? We all have to be strong."

Standing above them, Tyser looked on thoughtfully. "I don't really get what's going on," he said, "but you can't let it get you so bad. I say we focus on this and worry about psychic demons later."

"Tyser's right, for once. Let's just take care of Kem."

Though he was still made weary with anxiety, Korben nodded. "Alright," he agreed hoarsely. "I'll get ready."

* * *

The four Turks gathered in Sector Three, armed and prepared for the task ahead. The first several hours of their mission were spent searching for the missing SOLDIER, inquiring at every bar, inn, and tenant house in the Sector. No one had seen Kem since the incident. Their search of Sector Two was similarly ineffective, and Sector One. Finally Tyser suggested they simply find the man's apartment.

"Arvon's place is in Auglim," said Raile. "It's under constant surveillance, and he hasn't gone back to it."

"Gavin hasn't, either?"

"I guess not."

The Turks paused to collect their thoughts; none were eager to question everyone in Midgar's population. Korben suggested, "What about Mindy's? Gavin was there earlier."

Though Raile was obviously reluctant to follow any of Korben's advice, he relented out of desperation. "All right, we'll try. Come on."

* * *

Mindy's Café was alive that night, as it was every night, with the usual crowd of drunken men. They laughed and argued, harassing the waitresses as they shared exaggerated stories. Mindy herself was about, sliding gracefully through the tables and casting suggesting looks at the men. Willy silently envied her elegance and charm, and the ease in which she gathered the attention of every man at the bar. It was sickening and unfair.

Mindy surveyed the dozens of eager men at her disposal, then moved purposefully across the room to a table near the bar's large glass window. Seated there were two men in casual clothing, laughing at some joke. It was Gavin and Kem.

"Wha'do'ya know," Tyser muttered, hiding with his companions in an alley across from the bar. "Duce was right."

In the bar, Kem pulled a wad of money out of his pocket and handed it to Mindy, then waved to Gavin. A short exchange of conversation passed among the trio, then Mindy took Gavin by the hand and led him toward the back room. By the time the door had closed behind them she'd already begun unbuttoning his shirt.

Willy closed her eyes, attempting to erase the scene from her memory. "I'm fine," she told the others before they could ask. "Kem's alone now. Let's do this." When she reopened her eyes they were filled with resolution. _Gavin's not himself. Remember what you told Vincent? If you love him, you'll take care of him, despite his mistakes._ She took a deep breath and began to check her gear.

"We'll have to get Gavin, too," Raile said, accessing the situation. "We won't have to kill him, but I want him immobilized. Korben's our main sniper now, but I don't think he'll be taking this shot." The man in question lowered his head and nodded. "Tyser, I want you. Make it clean; there are a lot of innocent people in there."

"I wouldn't call them 'innocent'," muttered Tyser, "but I got it. One shot."

"Mindy's room has another door," said Korben. "In the back, leading outside. When she's with a customer she keeps it unlocked in case they get rough."

Raile considered. "I'll take care of it, then. Once Tyser takes the shot, I want Willy to check the body and Tyser in with me. If anyone in the bar tries something, you're safety is more important than theirs."

"Thanks, Raile," replied Tyser. "I didn't know you cared."

The boss shot him a stern look, though his mood had lifted since the hours before in their apartment. They possibility of ending this mission gave him some confidence back. "Anyway, Korben will stay here as standby, got it? Good." He slipped out of the alley and made his way around the back of the bar, being careful not to pass the window where Kem was seated. Willy took up a position near the door, giving the appearance of idleness while Tyser readied himself in the alley. He raised the rifle Korben had let him borrow, aiming the electronic sights at the side of Kem's head. After giving Raile ample time to reach the back door, he took a breath and squeezed the trigger.

* * *

The door was easy to find; it was covered in fluorescent spray paint that read "Mindy's Room." Raile held his weapon ready in both hands, waiting. A moment later he heard the percussion of Korben's rifle, and the shattering of glass. He sprang into action. The door yielded without complaint under his boot, and in an instant he was in the room with his gun aimed at the back of Gavin's head. "Hold it!" he shouted, slightly disturbed by the scene he'd interrupted.

Gavin groaned, more annoyed than startled by the intrusion. He rolled away from Mindy, who didn't bother to cover her naked body. "Do you mind?" she snapped. "I'm with a customer here."

"Get up and put your clothes back on," the Turk leader instructed, his sights still on Gavin. He repressed a flash of anger at the man—after dealing with a lonely and Gavin-deprived Willy for a year, he couldn't accept this behavior. SOLDIER or not. "I'm sorry, but I'm taking you in."

Gavin regarded the armed Turk coldly, clearly unimpressed. "Any other time I might go along with this," he said, "but I'm not in the mood right now. Unless Shinra's made sex a crime, too."

"You're a funny guy, Frekes. Now get up. Your partner's already dead."

He cocked an eye. "So are you," he muttered. He dragged Mindy back to him, settling the problem with a wave of his hand.


	10. Chapter 10

Fearful Symmetry

Chapter 10: Twin Dragon Germ

* * *

Willy didn't even flinch as the gun went off, shattering the café window with an impressive crash. The initial explosion was followed by several exclamations—mostly curses—as a general panic enveloped the main room. Several men ran from the shop, swearing, disappearing into the alleys for fear of being caught in a problem that wasn't theirs. But then, she knew it would only take the remaining customers a few minutes to regain their composure and return to their drinks. She'd seen it too often before. One dead Shinra made no difference.

As she'd expected, by the time Tyser joined her and they entered the bar, no one gave them much notice. They merely turned their heads toward their drinks and shuffled their feet. She didn't blame them. Most likely, they had their own problems to worry about.

Kem Arvon was slumped to the side of his chair, his head cocked at a grotesque angle. Blood stained the tiles around his table and sunk into their cracks, mixed with bits of scalp and bone. Willy approached swiftly, undaunted by the sight, as she'd similar bodies dozens of times before. It had been a good shot, which made her job that much easier. But when she was only a few steps away she heard a sharp cough. The sound was thick and wet, and Kem's body moved a bit. Willy paused for only a moment. _It was someone at the bar,_ she told herself.

Though it was against her better judgment, Willy moved to see his face. A good portion of his skull had been blown apart by the bullet, and yet most of his features were in tact. She could still recognize the long, firm jaw and deep-set eyes. Eyes now blank and hollow. She sighed, expelling the tension so as to not get bogged down in emotion.

His left eye blinked.

At first she thought she'd hallucinated, or that his muscles were simply contracting as a response to his brain being ripped apart, but when the brightly glowing iris turned upward, she froze. Weak breath hissed through Kem's slack lips, causing blood to flow lazily over her chin and pool on the tile. She only stared, shocked, as the man coughed again.

Beside her, Tyser gawked. "Holy f—king flush," he stuttered. "The bastard's still alive."

Kem blinked slowly, his blood-washed glare mocking them. He put his hand on the table. The Turks could only gaze in astonishment as he attempted to stand. But then, just as he'd regained some balance, he pitched forward, overturning the table and scattering dishes in a cacophony of breaking glass and ceramic plates. His body shuddered, face down on the floor, until Tyser fired three more times into the man's skull.

Willy reminded herself to take another breath, overcoming her confusion. Naturally she knew that the first shot didn't always kill the target, but to see him stand after Tyser's perfect aim….

She shook the image from her mind. "Raile's waiting," she said, glancing about the bar. No one was watching. Then she looked through the shattered window frame at Korben, just to check.

But Korben wasn't where Raile had ordered him to stay. He was moving toward the bar with unsteady, hesitant strides. His gun hung in a lazy grip. His eyes, wide and filled with a strange, wild emotion, slithered across the tile to stare at the body. "Dear God, it isn't dead," he whispered, trembling a bit.

"What? Hell, he _looks_ dead." Tyser nudged Kem's shoulder with his toe; it rolled back without response. "Calm down, Duce. He's folded."

Korben shook his head slowly, transferring his sharp gaze to the door, which read, "Mindy's Room." Slowly, his visage was tainted with a look of horror that Willy recalled from earlier that evening. He was attempting to contain the sudden instinctual fear; it took all of his strength to keep from fleeing, or screaming like a madman. "No," he murmured, as if witnessing a predator as it stalked its victim. His hand, a pale, shaking limb, stretched out as if to halt some illusion that played across the screen of his mind. "No, don't. No—"

From the back room came the sound of an explosion. It wasn't the kind of booming, echoing percussion of thunder that Willy was used to hearing; it was subdued, and accompanied by a wet sound not unlike that of a mallet brought down on a watermelon. Dampened shrapnel splattered loudly against the door, followed by silence. The men at the bar lifted their heads, as if detecting somehow the rise of power from within the back room. Then, faintly of the sound of shuffling feet and setting glasses, could be heard the screaming voice of a woman.

Korben had stopped breathing, and Willy realized after a moment that she was also holding her breath. She shook herself, not allowing her eyes to meet Korben's for fear of losing reality in the raging, raw emotion of his depthless stare. Unconsciously she checked her gun and headed for the door to Mindy's Room.

"Wait!" Korben cried, her movement startling him from his panic. "Willy, don't go in there."

"Raile's in there. I have to." Her hand closed around the knob, but before she could open it, someone began to twist it from the inside. She stepped back and readied her weapon as the door swung open into the room.

Gavin stepped out of the room, dressed only in his khaki pants with white shirt draped over his arm. He was chuckling to himself. For a moment when the door was opened Mindy's terrified wail emptied into and filled the bar, stirring some of the customers to abandon their seats. The interior of the room was dark, but Willy could see almost black stains covering the far wall, and a slumped shape too small to be a man. The smell, a sickening odor that raised bile in her throat, assaulted her nostrils and choked her throat with it intensity. It smelled of gore and death.

The door snapped shut, startling her. "Oh, Willy," Gavin greeted heartily despite the look on her face. He slipped his arms into his shirt sleeves; the material was marred with crimson spots. "I didn't know you were here."

Willy gulped back any hesitation as she raised her gun, aiming at the man's heart. She couldn't bear to look him in the face. "Hold it right there," she instructed. "What did you do to Raile?"

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you." He buttoned his shirt and tucked it in his khakis. "It's rather unpleasant."

"Tyser, watch him," she called over her shoulder, defiance in her gaze as she finally looked at Gavin. He was brushing bits of something out of his hair with his fingers. Preparing herself, she opened the door once more. The stench washed over her again, and Willy covered her mouth with her hand to keep from becoming sick.

Mindy was sitting in bed, naked and blood-stained. She'd stopped screaming and only stared at the intruder with gaping eyes and opened mouth. The entire room was splattered with dripping gore—not one of the bar owner's possessions had been spared. The walls were colored gruesomely, as if bleeding from stab wounds in the wood created by shattered bone fragments. Bits of navy suit fabric stuck to them, pathetic bandages against the flow of life fluid. The slumped shape against the far wall was a pair of human legs and nothing more, destroyed down to the knees, covered in dark slacks and black dress shoes.

Willy closed her eyes, but it was too late; the image before her was forever imprinted upon her brain. She nearly fainted as dozens of questions and images attacked her: _Did Gavin done this?_ _How? Why?_ She dropped to her knees and vomited, overcome with the awful scene. Her eyes burned with tears that wouldn't fall. _Oh God, Raile…this can't be happening…._

"Willy? What's going on in there?" Tyser's call and Mindy's loud, gasping breath forced the woman Turk to retain her composure. _You couldn't have done anything. But it's not over. The woman's probably in shock. You have to help her._ "Tyser, stay there and _watch him_. I'll be right there." Willy shoved her gun in her belt and removed her suit jacket, focusing on this task to keep from the sight of her leader's remains. Swiftly, so that she could complete this part of her mission quickly, she strode into the room. She only gave only one sign of discomfort—a quiet sob when her heel crushed loudly on a piece of splintered bone. She bit her lip and approached the woman in bed.

"Mindy, I'm here to help you," Willy said, retrieving a cloth from the woman's bedside drawer to wipe her face. "You're okay; you're not hurt. I'm going to take care of you."

Mindy only stared, pale, trembling, and uncomprehending. The Turk managed to put the jacket on her and buttoned it halfway. "I'm taking you outside. We're going to find a friend of yours—Cindy is a waitress, right? And Fillip. You'll be okay." She hooked her arm around the woman's waist and hauled her off the bed. Fortunately Mindy had enough of her own mind left to stumble along on her own feet to the door. They were met outside by several of the bar's waiters. "Get her to a doctor," Willy instructed firmly.

"Well done." She started at the sound of Gavin's voice. "Caring for a whore."

Willy bit her lip hard, so that the pain would keep her in focus. Anger and injustice gradually began to replace her shock, and her hope. Her hand curled around the grip of her weapon, and she leveled it at the SOLDIER member. She moved deliberately to put her and Tyser at a ninety-degree angle with Gavin as the target. Korben stayed out of range. "Don't move," she commanded in a clipped voice, her emotions tightly leashed. Her voice rose as she spoke to the men in the bar. "Everyone else, get out. Bar's closed for tonight." And when only a few obeyed, she snapped, "If you stay, you'll end up like the guy in Mindy's room."

The door to Mindy's Room was wide open now, and those that could see inside quickly covered their mouths and fled from the shop. The others were compelled to escape simply from the smell. Soon only the three Turks and Gavin remained.

"What happened in there?" Tyser asked quietly, the seriousness in his voice somewhat eerie. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Willy closed her eyes only briefly. "Yes. There's…not much left." She turned her heated gaze on Gavin. "How could you?" she hissed. "He was your friend."

"And now he's sludge," he replied coldly. "His own damn fault for interrupting." He gave a short bark of laughter. "_Now_ who outranks who, eh?"

"Bastard." She held her gun in both hands tightly to keep them from shaking. "What did they do to you?"

Gavin shrugged carelessly. "Explaining it won't help—you wouldn't understand. I'm better than all of you now, which is all you need to know." He grinned wickedly, causing them all to cringe. "It only took a minute to kill Raile, which means in less than ten I could take out all three of you. Hell, less than five! Not bad for First Class, huh?"

"There's no use talking," Korben murmured, moving to stand behind Tyser as if in hope of protection. "That's not Gavin Frekes anymore."

"What happened to him?" Tyser asked. "Do you know?"

"I…I'm not sure."

The man in question laughed mockingly, satisfied as Korben shrank back. "What a joke. What makes you think you know anything? You're just a f—ked up junky."

As Tyser was the highest ranking Turk, it was up to him to make the call. "Ace," he said slowly, "we don't want to do this. But we're taking you in, and if you resist us, we'll kill you." The quiet, tightly restrained anger beneath his usually casual voice was unsettling. Willy couldn't remember hearing Tyser ever talk that way. He meant what he said. "I don't care if you're yourself or not. I won't forgive you for what you did to Raile."

_Raile. He called him Raile, and not King._ Willy's hands shifted over her handle. _This is it. But…isn't there another way? There has to be…._

Gavin's lip curled. He spread his arms out in an inviting gesture. "Well, it looks like you guys're gonna earn your pay for once. I intend to resist."

Tyser's finger drew the trigger back, but by then the SOLDIER was already in motion. The bullet struck Gavin's open palm as he charged, penetrating his flesh, but not passing entirely through his hand as it should have. He hopped, kicking out with his right leg; his knee knocked the gun's aim vertical to avoid another shot, and an instant later his book struck Tyser in the chest. The Turk was thrown brutally into the table behind him, tumbling it and sending the dishes crashing. Korben barely managed to dodge out of the way. Tyser landed among the strewn utensils, gasping and moaning.

Willy fired, her actions a result of trained reflexes, each of three shots burying in Gavin's upper back. His body jerked forward, unbalanced, but he didn't fall. She was still overcoming her horror at having shot him when he righted himself. He turned toward her with a grin. "At least your aim is improving."

"How…." She stared, dumbstruck. She'd heard the stinging impact of the bullets, and could see the blood soaking into the back of his white shirt, and yet he stood without falter and had the audacity to mock his attacker. "A monster…" she murmured, the image of the demon Chaos resurfacing in her mind. "They made you into a demon."

"I always was a demon," he laughed. "You just didn't know me better."

Willy shook her head in fierce denial. "No, that's not true and you know it."

Gavin was suddenly in front of her, one hand grabbing her belt and the other her collar. He lifted her into the air with ease, the gun falling from her hand. She had no time to think; there was only the motion, being tossed into the air like a limp doll. Gravity betrayed her, and reality was no more than a smudge of horizontal gray. For several suspended moments she flew, sickened and paralyzed, until the earth rushed back to claim her. Her left arm landed first. Then she rolled, still crying out from the first contact, scraping her back and arms. She finally halted on her back in the street. Her head was pounding, and her lips tasted of blood.

Willy groaned. When she opened her eyes she saw only a dark, clouded canopy of heaven and blurs of iron and fluorescent light. The recognition that she was outside came to her slowly, as if she were viewing the landscape of some dream. The pain probed this theory otherwise. Her skull was throbbing, and her left arm and shoulder felt like they'd been set aflame. _Dislocated_ a tiny voice of logic in her brain stated. Some part of her was still willing to reason. _Left shoulder dislocated, wrist broken, bruised like hell._ Maybe there was still more, but the pain had enveloped most of her body, making it difficult to locate anything else.

Laughter, and footsteps—those were the first sounds to reach her from above her own breath and quickened pulse. Then her own name, spoken in urgency from a distance. But then the booted steps blocked that out, and the laughter filled her ears. "Willy, Willy, Willy," the chuckle formed into words. "Poor, poor Willy. Such a shame."

"Ga…." To speak, to move was too much of a burden; she wondered vaguely how far she'd been thrown. It had felt like a great distance.

"But then, if you didn't eat so many damn salads, you probably wouldn't have sailed so far. Weight loss has an ugly side."

Willy forced herself to sit up, relying entirely on her right arm to support her. The muscles all along her back complained with the movement. Still, she managed to remain somewhat upright. The more difficult action was lifting her gaze to Gavin's face. Though she hadn't expected to see any sympathy, the look of passive indifference in his eyes was painful to see. Her voice failed her.

"Frekes!" She recognized the voice as Korben's, and was relieved by the force in his tone—he was regaining the courage that had for three years kept him alive through the worst missions. But she was still staring at Gavin, who had at the calling of his name betrayed his cool exterior with a look of panic. He didn't turn immediately; his hands trembled a bit, which seemed to surprise him even more, and he curled them into fists. Slowly, he turned.

Willy's mind began to race. Gavin hadn't acted like that toward Korben before—what had happened? Where had that glint of fear come from?

The two men were in a stare-down now. Korben had abandoned the shop—she could see Tyser through the broken store window behind him—and stood against his opponent unarmed. Though his bravery was there, guiding him, he still appeared unsure and nearly terrified. Anyone could have seen that, and still the SOLDIER's tightly clenched fists clearly spoke of his own insecurity.

"Korben, don't give up!" Willy shouted desperately. "He's just as scared of you as you are of him!"

Both men started visibly, and Gavin turned on her angrily. "Shut up! I'm not afraid of anything, let alone a piece of shit like him!"

Korben straightened at her words, and though he didn't believe her completely, he trusted her enough to look for himself. He stared directly into Gavin's bright amber eyes, searching for a hint of an advantage for him. He breathed slowly and focused on that tiny spark within the man's gaze; the luminescence pulled him deeper, dared him to view what secrets lay behind those twin mirrors. He reached out, further, and there discovered an understanding.

"Willy," he said, wondering at the source of this man's power. "I can save him."

Gavin's face twisted in a look of absolute rage, but now the fear had been raised from his mind, and it shone in his countenance. The blaze in his eyes grew, spilling rays of brilliance over his features. "You stupid son of a bitch! I'll kill you all! I'm better than all of you!"

"I see now." Korben licked his lips and stood his ground. "I see what you are."

The SOLDIER member scowled. He clasped his hands together; they began to glow a dull green, and the eerie light was accompanied by a swelling of power that all of them clearly felt. It was as if a cool wind had begun to blow, prickling goosebumps along their flesh. Willy shivered, finally realizing what it was inside her past lover that caused Korben so much anguish. As the tension increased her insides began to stir, playing upon her instincts to flee this awful place. She remembered the room of blood, and the pair of suited legs.

"Gavin, no!" Willy pounced on his hands, gripping them in fumbling, weak fingers. "Gavin, please!" she cried, even as the heat of his magic burned her skin. "For my sake, don't do this!"

He did stop, to her surprise and elation. He gazed down at her as if for the first time with new eyes, and the anger melted from his transformed expression. The peace, however, was short-lived. Tyser took full advantage of the SOLDIER's hesitation, bringing a metal table leg down on the man's head. The cracking of metal on bone was sickening. Willy shrieked as Gavin's legs folded beneath him and he fell to his hands and knees, blood seeping through his hair. Another stoke to the back of his neck felled him.

Willy was about to panic when Korben knelt down beside her. "Calm down, Will. I can do this." He surveyed their friend's condition. "I think."

"I believe you." She grimaced, the pause in their confrontation allowing her to remember her pain. "Tyser, can you help? My shoulder…"

"Dislocated? Broken?" Tyser prodded the limb tentatively. "You popped it pretty good. Hold on." He set his hands on her shoulder, and with a forceful shove fit the bone back into place. Willy bit her lip and managed not to cry out. "Your hand doesn't look so good, either."

Willy shook her head. "Don't worry about that. How's…how's Gavin?"

"Out. But he'll pull himself out eventually." A frown creased his mouth and brow. "But after that…."

Korben stare a moment more at the body, then shook his head as if making up his mind. "Alright, I think I can do this. I'll try. Turn him on his back."

"But he's been shot," Willy reminded, feeling taints of unreasonable guilt. "The bullets…." She broke off when she saw Gavin's back; she could see the holes her bullets had cut, but beneath them lay no wounds. She ran her hand over his skin to be sure, then checked the back of his head—his blood was already clotting. "I knew SOLDIER members healed fast, but…."

"We need to do this now," Korben insisted anxiously. "I'll need your help."

Tyser and Korben rolled the unconscious SOLDIER onto his back while Willy tied her wrist to Tyser's empty ammunition clip to keep it steady. "Unbutton his shirt," Korben instructed, pulling his card deck out of his suit. He began to flip through the cards. "It was so long ago." He removed Gaea from the others and tucked them away. "I think this was it."

Tyser hurried to obey his friend's orders, startled by the sudden change in his courage. "What are you going to do?"

"Remember how I said I need these cards to use Cetra magic? As amplifiers?" He stained the card with Gavin's blood, where the woman's arms came together, as if she were to embrace his impurity. "Up until now I've only been able to tell the future, but…I should try." He placed the card face down over Gavin's heart and covered it with his hand. The other he set over Gavin's forehead. "Tsyer, hold his legs and Willy, sit on his arms or something."

They did, confused and nervous but open for any solution. Gavin was silent as Korben closed his eyes, concentrating on this seemingly impossible task. "Mother Earth," he whispered almost as a chant. "All I can ask for is the redemption fate promised this man."

At fist it didn't seem as if anything was happening. Korben's brow furrowed, and his frown deepened, but Gavin continued to breathe normally. Willy shifted, uncomfortable with the silence. She was about to speak—just for the sake of speaking—when Korben suddenly drew in a quick breath.

Gavin's eyelids flicked open. His gaze was cast upward blindly, and the light in his eyes appeared to have dulled. His mouth slowly opened, and it was not his voice which emptied out. "What are you doing?"

The Turk didn't reply. Instead he addressed his two comrades. "Get ready."

"Ready?" Tyser repeated. "For what?"

The answer was in the form of Gavin's abrupt, agonized cry, and the sudden animation of his limbs. Willy was almost thrown by the brute force. She struggled to keep his arms pinned, grimacing as her wrist flared in pain. Tears were running down her face; for her or her friend, she didn't know. Gavin bellowed and cursed like a beast, shuddering beneath their holds. He thrashed back and forth but found no escape from Korben's treatment. Soon he was screaming not in anger, but in terror and anguish. Frustration edged his wails as he suffered violently, all the while Korben remaining still.

The fit lasted half a minute. Gavin's voice became hoarse and drained into a soft whimpering, his eyes wide and full of horrors. Their shine had been considerably diminished, but still they were brighter than a normal man's. Soon the SOLDIER member fell unconscious. His eyes remained open.

A moment later Korben's eyes opened as well. He shook his head several times as if to drive some image from his sight, the heaved a sigh of relief.

"Well?" Willy quickly wiped her tears away. "What did you do? Is he all right? What happened?"

"Let's get him back to the apartment." He began to unlace his boot, and with their help used the lace to tie the Gaea card to Gavin's torso. "I…think I can explain some things."

"What about Raile?" asked Tyser. Though retrieving the body was not an option, leaving the bar as it was would raise many unwanted questions. "And his family…."

"Oh God, his family," Willy whispered, her throat constricting at the thought of his two young sons. "Diest and Tseng…what are you going to tell Lila?"

"And Shinra."

Korben immediately responded, "No, we can't let Shinra have Gavin. They'll do worse to him than he did to Raile, if I'm right." Whatever he'd been able to do to the man, it had raised his confidence and clarity to normal. "Tyser and I will take Gavin back to the apartment while Wily puts the report in." He continued before she could protest. "Right now we'll say Gavin got away—they'll understand after they see the mess. Then I can watch him while…Tyser tells Raile's family."

Tyser nodded slowly, not pleased with his assignment but accepting. If anything, he'd known Raile's wife, Lila, the longest.

"I want to stay with Gavin," Willy insisted. "Is he going to be okay?"

Korben set a hand on her good shoulder. "He'll be okay, trust me. But we have to report something, and you're injured anyway. Now go on—we'll take care of him."

"All right. I'm counting on you guys." She glanced down at Gavin, disturbed that his eyes were still open. They continued to gape blindly at the blackened night sky.


	11. Chapter 11

Fearful Symmetry

Chapter 11: Second Exodus

* * *

Willy rushed through her report of the incident at Mindy's Café. She didn't want her superiors to suspect anything, but in the same she also didn't want to spend too much time away from Gavin. The General was at first impatient with the failure of his Turks to complete the assignment; when Raile's remains were discovered, his temper quickly switched targets. He ordered a city-wide search by all members of SOLDIER to look for Gavin Frekes. Willy had her shoulder and wrist examined, and then asked to be put on leave. General Sines reluctantly granted her request.

When she returned to her apartment Tyser was still out, and Gavin was laid on the couch with Korben watching over him. The SOLDIER's eyes were still open. "Is he okay?" was her first question.

Korben glanced up. "Doing better. But he's a bit dizzy, so I had him stay down."

"Dizzy? But how…?" She was going to question his reason for thinking so of an unconscious man, when she saw that Gavin was watching her. Their eyes met and mingled for some time, too afraid to move or speak. His face reflected a look of pain deeper than any she could remember. "Gavin," she whispered, gulping loudly, "I…are you okay now?"

"Willy…." Gavin bit his lip, unable to say the words. Finally looked away out of shame. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice raw and somewhat choked. "Oh God, Willy, I…." He shook his head, as if any apology he were to say would not be enough. "I'm so sorry. I can't begin…."

Willy took a deep breath, calling upon her bravery to guide her closer. She knelt beside the low couch. "I know, Gavin. I know that wasn't really you."

He closed his eyes remorsefully. "The most frightening thing was, some part of it _was_ me." His words cause her heart to skip a beat. "I could see what was happening…I knew what I was doing, but…I couldn't…." His breath emptied out in a long, frustrated and weary sigh. "I can't apologize. It's not good enough, after what I did to you, and…." He trailed off.

"Gavin, stop. She touched his face, recalling the last time she'd been with him a year ago. His skin was clammy beneath her fingers. "It's over now, so—"

"It's not over," Korben interrupted at last. "Not if I'm right. Gavin, tell her what you told me."

The SOLDIER licked his lips. "When I was in Junon with Kem, we met someone from the science department. Apparently Professor Gast is about to make a breakthrough, and his competition is panicking." He hesitated guiltily. "Kem and I wouldn't have made it to First Class. We weren't good enough. But Dr. Alkens—the scientist—offered to treat us experimentally. TO make us stronger."

Willy sighed. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know. But…." Gavin growled at himself in disgust. "I was an ass. I wanted to be stronger, but I guess I wasn't strong enough. God, the things I did…."

She caressed his cheek in comfort as Korben took over the explanation. "The scientist claimed he'd inject them with Cetra material, but he didn't. I don't know if he lied or was simply mistaken. I finally realized what Chaos means: it's from a Cetra legend."

"A legend?" Willy repeated curiously.

He nodded. "Centuries ago the Cetra were nearly wiped out by a powerful psychic being. When I tried to help Gavin, I understood." He frowned as he considered the best way to explain. "It's kind of like one mind that's its own entity. The cells of its body are able to become dormant, then reawaken whenever they contact something living. And the mind enters the body of its host."

"I'm lost," she confessed.

"It's mind—rather, its soul—is immortal. If its DNA enters an animal, part of the soul enters that animal."

"But…." She looked to Gavin, and he nodded grimly. "This 'being's' soul is in him?"

Korben's expression was similar to Gavin's. "I was able to seal it, but it's still there, and it won't stay caged. I don't think I can get rid of it by myself," he added quietly.

"Korben, can I talk to Gavin alone for a while?"

"Sure."

Gavin tried not to look at Willy once they were alone. His face was full of shame and self-directed disgust, so much so that he couldn't bare to see her. They stayed together, silently letting the minutes slip away, nether knowing where to begin. Neither knowing where their redemption could come from. At last he broke the silence.

"I meant part of what I said before," he told her. His words were tentative, each carefully planned in his mind. "I…I loved you, Willow. Since the beginning. I wanted you to…." He sighed, and closed his eyes. "I wanted to ask you to come with me, but I knew you'd think it was a joke. Everything I do is a joke to you—to all of you. You're the only reason I ever got into SOLDIER. You've never let me forget that.

"At first I thought that you acted like that towards me because that was how you were. I could have accepted that." He licked his lips. "But when you're with them, you're serious. You treat them better than family, better than me. You've never been serious with me."

Willy bit her lips together, mimicking the feeling in her gut. "I'm sorry," she managed to weakly reply. How could she say more? She realized now how cruel she must have been, treating his most precious feelings as part of her flirtatious games. That had always been her way: "Don't let them too close or you get hurt" was the lesson she'd learned too may times before. She trusted Vincent with her insecurities because he understood, and the others with her life because they were her friends. But with Gavin things were different.

Because she loved Gavin.

"Gavin, I forgive you," Willy said, and his gaze met hers with trepidation. She rewarded his courage with a soft, serious smile. "I'm so sorry about everything, but we're going to take care of you, so that this doesn't happen again. I don't blame you at all."

"Willy, you don't want me anymore."

"I think that's up for _me_ to decide." Usually she chose humor for this kind of situation—now she left it out. "Besides, you need us. Now, is there anything you can tell me that will help this make more sense?"

Gavin sighed deeply, searching his memory. "It's been going on for so long, it's hard to think."

"How long?" she asked.

"Well…we were treated in March."

Willy frowned, as if this fact held some significance. March…what had Vincent been doing then? Five months ago…Lucretia had been in her third month. But what did that have to do with anything? She was about to scold herself for wasteful thinking when she realized the significance.

_Since March._

She quickly ran to the phone.

* * *

"Mr. Valentine, there's a call for you."

Vincent sighed and retrieved the phone from the young lab assistant. He already knew it was Willy—she was the only person who ever called him. It would be good to hear her voice again. He lifted the receiver to his ear. "Hello, Willy."

"Vincent, are you alone?" came Willy's nearly frantic voice. "We need to talk."

He frowned at her anxiety. Rarely did he hear Willy without a note of humor. "What's wrong?"

"Please, just…can you call me back on your own phone? It's important and it needs to be private."

"Alright. I'll call back." He hung up and thanked the technician, then left to go to his room on the second floor. Though he had no idea what his friend had in mind, he clearly recognized her distress. He took a seat on his bed and dialed her number. "It's me."

"Something's happened," Willy began immediately. "Something awful, Vincent, and I need to know: when did Gast begin his experiment?"

"What? You know I'm not—"

"Please, just tell me."

Vincent's ill ease increased—he didn't like the way their conversation had begun. They hadn't spoken in weeks—she didn't even have time for "hello"? She always greeted him at length before getting to the point. For the sake of her impatience, however, he didn't question and thought back. Lucretia was now eight months pregnant, and had been in her third month when the treatments began. He frowned deeply with the memory. "Five months ago," he replied. "In March."

"Shit. Thought so."

"Why does it matter? Willy—"

"They injected the kid with that stuff, didn't they?" she persisted, her speech speeding up as it did when she was nervous. "The stuff you said was Cetra—the being, Chaos, whatever Korben said it was. They put it in the kid to give him power, you said. In March."

Vincent struggled to keep up with her rapid, broken sentences. "What's going on? You're right, but…."

"Something happened. Do you know a Dr. Alkens?"

He wanted to insist that she slow down and explain everything, but then decided to go along. She'd end up telling him; he could be patient, though he did have an unpleasant feeling. "Only by name. He's a scientist."

Willy sighed on the other end. "Gavin came back a while ago." Her tone had sobered considerably. "He and Kem were given what they were told was Cetra—an injection to give them power. But it's not Cetra—it's something evil. It's an awful, terrible being, and I think they put it in Lucretia's kid."

The background Vincent could hear Korben saying, "Ask what they call the material they used."

"It's called Jenova," the Senior Turk replied.

"Did you hear that, Korben?" Willy asked, her voice softer, as she was turned away from the phone. "It's called Jenova. What's the matter? Do you know it?"

Vincent climbed to his feet, beginning to grow annoyed. "Will you please explain what's going on? Someone?"

There was a pause. "Jenova isn't a Cetra," Willy said at last. "Don't ask how I know—that's not important now. All you need to know is that Jenova is evil—you and Lucretia could be in danger, right now."

"Evil?" _What is going on? She's being foolish—it's not like her._ "Willy, the child isn't even born yet. How dangerous can it be?"

"Raile is dead." Her sudden declaration returned Vincent to his seat on the bed. "Gavin killed him—Oh God, it was awful. The power of Jenova…it's terrible. You have to believe me."

But Vincent could barely hear her now. His mind was in shock at the unexpected news, and he only heard himself ask, "How did he die?"

This question proved to be more difficult than he'd anticipated. "He was destroyed. There's no other way to describe it. It only took a moment, but there was blood everywhere. And Kem…he was shot in the head—it was a good shot—and he was still alive and moving. His skull was trashed and he still looked up at me." She stopped again, allowing the startling news to penetrate her friend's disbelief. "So, do you see? Jenova is evil—it's the Chaos card, remember? And you pulled it, too. You're in danger."

He didn't question her sudden belief in Korben's fortunes. He tried to imagine what she meant by destroyed—the vision came to him clearly, and thinking of his leader's fate was too painful to continue. Instead his mind leapt to a more potent concern: Lucretia.

"Willy." Vincent's voice dropped, as if paranoid of being overheard. "I've planned to take Lucretia out of Shinra as soon as the baby is born. She's not well, and I can't allow her child—whatever they've done to it—to become a mere experimental subject. I'm taking them away."

"Take me with you," Willy responded immediately. "Gavin can't stay here anymore—they've already got SOLDIER out looking for him. They'll kill him, and I can't let that happen." Her words were followed by distant objections. "But we can't wait. We have to leave now. Let's go together."

"But…are you willing to give it up? Being a Turk…."

"Shinra did this to Gavin, and Shinra ordered his death because of it. I can't stay with them anymore. If they find Gavin here, I'll be killed anyway, so I'm not losing anything."

Vincent nodded thoughtfully, then realized that she couldn't see him. "Alright. We'll go away together. But taking Lucretia out of here won't be easy; you'll have to come pick us up, and we'll go south. How soon?"

She took an authoritative tone as a plan began to form. "I can schedule a flight as soon as possible, but it'll take at a day to get there. Shinra won't suspect; I'm due for vacation, and the Turks are on leave since…Raile's death."

"Yes." He allowed a moment of respectful silence, wondering about the man's family whom he'd been so devoted to. "I'll be waiting."

"We'll be there as soon as we can. Hold tight."

"Willy. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" he asked, one more time.

Willy's answer was confident and sure. "Yes. I can't stay here, now knowing if you're okay, or if SOLDIER is going to break my door down. I need to know that Gavin will be safe."

"Alright." Vincent took a deep breath, in that simple action confirming his determination. "I'll see you tomorrow evening."

"Tomorrow evening." And she hung up.

* * *

Tyser returned later that day, having spent much of the morning with Raile's wife and two young sons. No consolation of his was enough. Even though Lila knew Raile was a Turk, knowing all the risks, her despair had left her paralyzed for hours. But then, the most difficult task had been explaining why she could not see view her husband's remains.

Willy had already packed most of her things, and had turned the apartment upside-down gathering all the money she had; she kept most of it at home, as she didn't trust the Shinra banks. Unfortunately Gavin's savings had gone to Shinra as soon as he was announced a company traitor, and they lost a considerable amount of money.

Tyser argued with them as they prepared, perhaps more seriously than even in his seven year Turk experience, but Willy would not be swayed. He was even more stunned when Korben announced that he was going, too.

"I have to," Korben reasoned calmly. "I may not be the planet's most dedicated protector, but this creature has been driving me crazy ever since it woke up five months ago. I can't ignore the baby—I have to find a way to seal it."

"So you're abandoning the Turks?" Tyser asked incredulously. "Your home, your job, your friends?"

"I guess so." He shrugged, as if it didn't really matter. "I never liked Midgar, and Shinra's not much to miss."

The older man stared at him; there was no real anger in his face—only exasperation. "So you're bailing on me?" He looked to Willy for help. "Both of you? I can't keep up the Turks on my own!"

"So they'll hire you a newbie."

Tyser began to speak, then stopped himself before a word could come out. He turned his full gaze on their woman member. "Queenie, you can't be serious."

Willy bit her lip. In the beginning she'd been able to base her decision on rationality, but as she and Korben readied for departure she couldn't help the feeling that she was leaving her life behind. Midgar hadn't always been the most pleasant or easy place to live, but she'd been there her entire life. She knew the slums as well as she knew the apartment they shared, and the thought of journeying into something unknown truthfully frightened her. But more than that was the terrible apprehension she had for Gavin and Vincent.

"Tyser, I'm sorry," she told her quietly, and he refused to look at her throughout her explanation. "The Turks are everything to me, but….I love Gavin. I really do, and when I think about what might happen to him…I can't stand it." She sighed, wishing he'd understand how hard this was for her. "And Vincent's probably the greatest friend I've ever had—how can I not try to help him and the woman he loves? Besides, Shinra did this to Gavin. I can't stay here knowing that."

"Yeah, I got it." Tyser still wouldn't look at her, a fact that was in itself heart-shattering for her. "Do what you got to do, Will. Take care." He shook her hand, offering a half smile as a farewell. "See ya later Duce, Ace." He waved, and without another word disappeared into his room.

Willy sighed, disappointed with the way they were leaving things. "He hasn't called me 'Will' in years," she murmured as Gavin came up behind her. "Like suddenly he doesn't know me anymore."

"Don't worry about Tyser," he replied, laying a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. "He'll be okay."

"I know, but…." She shook herself. "I'll write to him. We're…still friends." She smiled a bit at Gavin. "I want to do this. It's important."

* * *

Slipping out of the city was more nerve-wracking than dangerous; after all, the Turks outranked SOLDIER members, and were well-versed in every form of tracking and sneaking known to any military officer. The trio made their way quickly and unnoticed to a small charter service in Sector Three, and within five hours of the incident at Mindy's Café were in the air. The plane would take them to Costa del Sol, where they'd have to connect with another service to take them to Nibelheim. It wasn't until the dark, twisted view of Midgar had begun to disappear beneath the horizon, however, that Willy allowed herself some calm.

In the seat across from her, Korben was already hard at work. He was bent over his tray table, his face inches from the black marks of his pencils. "Wha'cha doing?" she asked curiously.

"Making a new Gaea card," he responded, not taking his focus from his work. "Since my last one's stained. I'm going to make a few, just in case."

Willy nodded absently, watching the swift, jagged movements of his hand. "Do you think it'll work on Lucretia's baby?" she asked softly.

"I don't know. But you can pray." Korben's movements became more fluid as he drew the length of the woman's arm. He switched pencils, continuing to work deep into the night.


	12. Chapter 12

Fearful Symmetry

Chapter 12: Chaos—Immortal Eye

* * *

Vincent paced back and forth in his room listening to the muffled clacking of his shoes on the hardwood floor. Lucretia was with him, seated on the bed with her back against the headboard. He could tell that his uneasiness was affecting her, but he couldn't help it. This was his only chance to convince her—in the past he'd failed to sway her from going ahead with the experiments, leaving it up to this moment. She was waiting patiently for him to explain his calling her, but the arguments he'd conjured would not come to his lips. Would she believe him? And even if she did, would she go with him? The one problem he had not expressed to Willy in their plan was that he had yet to convince Lucretia of their intentions.

"What I have to tell you is very important," Vincent began, forcing himself to stop pacing. "It's about your child." He saw her hand move to her belly when he said so, and he remembered that he would have to be very sensitive to her feelings, no matter what the truth was. "They did not inject you or your child with Cetra. It was something else, and it could be dangerous to you both."

Lucretia's face immediately reflected her distress, a look he would have done anything to steal away. "What do you mean?" she asked. "How do you know?"

He took a seat on the bed beside her. "There was an accident in Midgar, and one of my Turks is dead." He kept his voice low, hoping to convey how serious he was. "The man who did it…was once a friend of mine. He was injected with Jenova—the same as your child."

"I don't understand," she interrupted. "How can Jenova not be a Cetra? What does that have to do with a murder?"

Vincent shook his head in frustration. "Don't you see—Jenova was manipulating him. It _made_ him kill my leader. Jenova is evil, and—"

"Stop it." Lucretia pulled away from him, disbelieving and frightened by the intensity in his speech. "You're wrong. Jenova has the power to make dreams come true—didn't you read the translations of the runes we found? Runes written by Cetra." She eyed him doubtfully. "Vincent, you can't just make this up. I know you're concerned, but I didn't think you'd lie to me."

"I'm not lying," he insisted, trying not to sound desperate. "I'm telling you the truth. You are in danger. That's why I'm taking you away."

"What?" Lucretia got up from the bed, staring at him as if he'd just threatened her at gunpoint. "What—what's gotten into you?"

_Why doesn't she believe me? I'm only trying to…._ Vincent followed her, taking her arm so that she couldn't try to retreat again. "Lucretia, I'm begging you to listen," he said in barely above a whisper. His chest felt tight with fear. "My friends are coming here, and they're going to take us all away. We'll find a way to save your baby. Do you really want your son to grow up with that insane Hojo, as a lab rat?"

She struck him. It took him a moment to realize that the pain on his cheek had been from her blow, so sudden was the action. "Don't…don't you dare speak about my husband like that," she said, though he could see she was choking on the words. "Who the hell do you think you are, making these accusations? Ian is a brilliant, caring man—he loves me more than you ever could!"

Vincent nearly staggered, catching himself on the bedpost as the woman turned and fled from the room. She didn't have far to go—as soon as the door opened she was stopped by the man standing there. The Turk kept his head down. Lucretia's words had left him breathless, and he couldn't bare to let anyone see the raw pain on his face. He didn't even see who had halted her until the man spoke.

"There seems to be some sort of misunderstanding between us, Mr. Valentine."

The grating, pinched voice of Ian Hojo was almost too much for him to handle. Vincent bit his lip to keep from cursing out loud. Of all the times for Hojo to show up—

"Would you be so kind as to join me in the lab, Mr. Valentine? I'd be happy to correct your misconceptions of our work here. Besides, there is also some other business I'd like to discuss with you." Without waiting for a reply he turned and left, guiding his wife to the room they shared at the end of the hall.

Vincent didn't move for several minutes. He wanted to shout in frustration, in anger—in sorrow. Lucretia's words scarred more deeply than any other, and sorting out the chaos left by their passing through his mind took some time. At last he pushed away from the support of the bed frame, finding his balance.

_I…have to go. Maybe, if I find out what's really going on…I can convince Lucretia._

He shook his head. _No…she won't believe me. She wouldn't believe me even if Hojo admitted it himself. She…loves him that much._

_Oh God…_

Vincent took a breath to calm his stomach, the left his room. The Shinra was somewhat quiet, he observed dully on his way to the basement. It took him a moment to realize that all the staff was involved in a meeting in the dining hall, and he wondered why Hojo wasn't attending. But then, Hojo never did what he was asked. He preferred to not waste his time with such trivial things. Vincent tried to force any of his bitterness aside: he was confronting Hojo, and it would require a clear frame of mind.

Hojo was waiting for him in the lab, looking over some device of his. Vincent patiently waited to be noticed. When the scientist failed to speak for nearly a full minute he finally said, "You wanted to speak to me, Professor?"

"Yes, that's right." He turned slowly away from his work. "It's about an incident we were recently informed of. One of your fellow Turks has died."

Vincent held his ground, through he was seething with anger at the man's callousness. "Yes, I was informed of that."

"You neglected to share with us."

"A Turk's death is very serious, but not your concern," he replied through tight lips.

Hojo appeared to be mildly amused by his response. "Actually, it does," he said, adjusting his glasses. "An accomplice to his killer, Major Kem Arvon of SOLDIER First Class, was killed. Our associates in Midgar reported that he had been exposed to one of the substances we've been testing. That is the subject of their meeting upstairs." He shrugged indifferently. "I preferred to go to the source."

"The source," the Turk repeated indignantly. "And what do I have to do with it?"

"Mr. Valentine, you're supposed to be security on this project, aren't you? I'd like to know how Dr. Alkens got a sample of the cells that exist only in this mansion."

Vincent was about to respond when his instincts flared; Wily had mentioned Dr. Alkens as being the scientist in Junon who'd treated Gavin and Kem. But the incident wasn't even a full day old. Kem was dead and Gavin was with Willy, so how did Hojo know the name of the renegade scientist? Shinra _did_ work efficiently, but without the Turks….

Hojo's face was twisted with a grin. "You're a smart man, Valentine. However, I find your lack of security to be alarming." He turned his back to him. "Let's not have that happen again, hmm?"

Vincent's hands clenched into fists. He could stand to be mocked and insulted, but not by this man. Not by Hojo, who had for so long been the cause of his pain—and Lucretia's. He should have turned and walked away, leaving the scientist to his toys. He should have gone back to Lucretia, told her what he'd discovered, and taken her far away from this place.

The memory of Raile kept his feet still. The two Senior Turks had known each other for ten years; they'd joined Shinra together, and since then had been impeccable allies. Though he often felt closer to Willy than to his leader, the two men had depended on each other's judgement and skill for a decade of the most difficult situations a man could find himself in. Now that life had been taken, by the curiosity of a mad man.

"You gave him the sample," he said in a low voice. "Lucretia's child may be your son, but the experiment belongs to Gast. You needed a quick break-through with instant results to beat him."

Hojo faced him once more, grinning faintly. "Science needs subjects, Mr. Valentine."

The Turk stiffened in anger. "Subjects?" he growled. "The men you had treated were good officers, and the man they killed my friend. You've always known that Jenova is unpredictable, and you let it happen anyway."

"So?"

_Stop it. Leave him alone—you'll be gone soon, and it will be over. Just go._

"I'm going to report this," Vincent heard himself say. "I'm not going to let you hurt more people the way you've hurt Lucretia."

The scientist laughed—it was a grating, chilling sound. "I don't think so," he replied mockingly. "You can't take Jenova from me." His hand dipped stealthily into his white lab coat.

Vincent noticed, but his anger was too well focused on the mans' sickening grin to think of it. "We'll see about that. You can't expect to—"

He broke off, shocked, as Hojo removed from his coat a small handgun. He expected some time to react, to dodge or attack, but his opponent did not speak and fired once. He wasn't a good shot, but at so close a range it didn't matter. The bullet buried deep into the Turk's upper chest; the explosion of gunpowder, shattering bone and ripping flesh was deafening to the wounded man. Then he was on his back, moaning weakly from the pain as blood poured out of him.

* * *

Gavin started out of a tender sleep. He glanced about, searching for the source of his rude alarm, and found himself seated on a small charter plane. He'd been awoken by the sound of the engine turning on. In the seat beside him, Wily was fidgeting nervously. His gaze drew her attention. "Hey," he greeted.

Willy smiled at him. "We're just about to take off. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine." He attempted to stretch, but the plane didn't allow for much room. "I'm just a bit tired. Traveling always exhausts me."

"Well, you'll have a while to sleep before we get to Nibelheim." She pulled a small blue pillow out from under her seat. "Here—make yourself comfortable."

Gavin accepted her offer with a chuckle. "Thanks, Willy."

* * *

Vincent's eyelids fluttered in reaction to the activation of a bright light overhead. He moaned, caught in a terrible pain that spread poison-like through his chest. Blood flowed down his shoulder and neck. He forced his mind to function, to comprehend what had happened to leave him in this state.

Gunpowder. He'd been shot. When he breathed a bitter taste rose in his throat, choking him, and he guessed that his lung had been punctured if not worse.

_Hojo._

Vincent scowled. Some part of his brain reasoned that he should find a way to stop the blood, but now he was concerned with discerning the location of his attacker. He could hear someone bustling about, but as his line of sight was limited he saw no one. He coughed weakly.

"Oh good, you're still alive." The light was lessened as a man's face interrupted his view. The features were twisted and unrecognizable to him. "Maybe you'll be good meat after all."

"Damn…Hojo," the Turk croaked.

"Oh come now; no need for that." The man's skinny ands reached down and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him across the floor. Vincent found no strength to struggle as he was pulled roughly onto the laboratory's center table. Glass tubes and bottles snapped and fractured under his weight. "Just lie still for a while. You won't feel a thing." With a wicked cackle he leapt off the table once more and moved away.

Vincent cursed; he would have hollered and struggled had he the power in his lungs and limbs. For now all he could do was lie as he'd been instructed, blinded by light and pain. He did, however, have the presence of mind to cover his wound with his hand to staunch the flow of blood.

"So, you love Lucretia, do you?" Vincent could barely hear the man's voice over his own anguished pulse. "She is rather beautiful, isn't she? Not that it really matters to me." He climbed onto the table and began to set out several objects that appeared only as a blur to him. "She'll have served her purpose once my son is born. So I've decided to do something quite unlike myself: I'm giving her to you."

Vincent's eyes snapped to him, thinking that perhaps he'd misunderstood. Hojo continued with a chuckle. "That got our attention, didn't it? Well, it's true." Their hands met for a moment, and then Vincent felt something being shoved onto the third finger of his left hand. "There. Now she's your whore, and you can go to Hell together." He leaned closer, so that his voice was nothing more than a harsh whisper in his ear. "As long as you wear that gold, you'll both be cursed. Soon she'll be dead, and by the time I'm through with you, you won't be human anymore." He laughed sharply and pulled away. "Isn't this a wonderful thing I'm doing? Anything as pathetic as a man in love should be honored to be a part of Jenova."

Vincent coughed and sputtered, to weak to reply. He wanted to rage and howl, but already the room was growing dark around him. He could no longer feel the blood or the pain, as if it had all become very insignificant. Slowly, he was pulled to the cold, black abyss. The last thing he remembered was the sting of the needle as it entered his flesh.

_Lucretia…._

* * *

When Willy and her friends reached Nibelheim it was just about evening, and the sky was painted with hues of orange and brilliant pink. After thanking the pilot they headed into the sleepy town. Willy thought the scenery rather pleasant, if not a bit dull. She smiled warmly at the people they passed even as they returned her greetings with suspicion. To avoid any scenes the trio moved quickly to the Shinra mansion near the back of town.

Gavin eyed the building doubtfully. "We can't just barge in there, can we?" he asked. "They're gonna suspect if we just stroll in and take people."

"Leave it to me." Willy grinned, removing from her backpack her Navy Turk's Jacket. She buttoned it and took a moment to better her appearance after their travel. "I may not be an actress, but this shouldn't be hard." She winked. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck."

Willy headed swiftly up the steps to the mansion, leaping gracefully over the gate. She rapped loudly on the door, which was answered by a tall woman with black hair. "May I help you?"

"Yes," she replied briskly. "It's very important that I speak with Mr. Valentine. May I come in?"

The woman looked her up and down. "You're a Turk," she asked suspiciously.

"Yes, and it's very important" Without waiting for an invitation Willy pushed past the woman into the mansion. She gaped momentarily at the size of the main room before continuing inside. "Could you tell me where I can find him?"

"The last time I saw him he was headed for the laboratory in the basement." She closed the door with a heavy clang that started the young Turk. "Upstairs, turn right, right again, last room on the left and go downstairs. But that was hours ago."

"Thank you. I'll look myself." With a curt nod she left the scientist, swiftly following the directions to the room that led to the basement. The mansion wasn't as large as the main room would have most believe. She ducked into the stairwell and started down.

She was immediately met with an argument. Lucretia was there, questioning her husband. He treated her concern with careless indifference. "I don't know what you're talking about," he was saying. "I haven't seen that Turk for hours."

"Are you sure?" she persisted. "I really need to speak to him."

"Lucretia, don't worry yourself over him."

Willy approached the pair swiftly—they were talking about Vincent, and she didn't like what she heard. "Dr. Karlauv. Professor Hojo, can I have a word with you?"

Both turned, startled by her sudden presence. "It's Willow Trust, isn't it?" asked Lucretia, squinting against the darkness in the corridor. The basement's chamber was no more than a maze of tunnels cut in the rock, lit with small bulbs along the sides. "You're a Turk."

"I need to speak with Vincent Valentine," she said. "It's urgent." Her eyes met the woman's briefly, wondering if he'd been able to inform her of their entire plan. "Tell me where he is, Professor."

"Unfortunately, that's quite impossible." His face was one of calm innocence. "I have no idea where he might be. He left the laboratory several hours ago."

Willy scowled and simply pushed past him continuing down the corridor toward the lab. She ignored Hojo's angry shouts. _If he hurt Vince, I swear I'll kill him myself._

She flung the laboratory door open, calling his name. Her gaze swept the room; it was piled with electronic devices, test tubes, samples and computer monitors. To the left was a small hallway with books lining each side, and on the right a work table in a terrible state of disarray. She moved closer to investigate, and there discovered bloodstains everywhere. "Vincent?" She could hear a man breathing—or, it might have been a man. It sounded more like some creature rasping. The sound was coming from behind the table, and with her gun drawn she rounded the furniture to see for herself.

At first all Willy could see was a mound of black flesh, huddled in the corner like a frightened animal. It was groaning softly in pain. Upon closer inspection she could clearly see the arched, muscular back, broad shoulders, and a thick tail that curved protectively around its body. The creature was large—she guessed ten feet tall or more, were it standing. She'd never seen anything like it.

The beast coughed, startling her with how human a sound it was. The flesh on its back began to bulge outwards, as if pushed from within, and extended. Willy stood back as the skin was stretched and molded into a pair of wide, leathery wings. She was on the verge of fleeing when it turned its head toward her, capturing her in its blazing crimson eyes.

"My, my," came a voice from behind, and the bizarre creature snarled angrily as Hojo entered the lab. He viewed his creation with satisfaction. "What an amazing outcome."

The beast rose to its full height, which was taller than the Turk had estimated. With a bellowing roar that caused the very foundation to shake it spread its wings; the counters behind were cleared of their apparatuses by the wind their flapping generated. Hojo watched the display with appreciation; the two women were not so calm. Willy backed away, her face pale, and Lucretia began to scream. He merely laughed as the creature set its gaze on him.

Willy gulped, her entire body sent trembling from the piercing scarlet eyes. Its twisted, grueling face was too familiar to her. "It's Chaos," she murmured, trans-like. "Korben's card. How…?"

The demon bellowed again, clearly intending to attack. "Get out of here!" Willy shouted to the scientists, awakened by the unearthly cry. "Run!" She aimed and fired at the beast.

Chaos's speed was too great; he dodged, much to her shock, and escaped being scathed by a single projectile. By now Hojo and Lucretia had gone, and she swiftly followed their retreat. She slammed the door behind her.

"That won't help," Hojo snorted. He was rummaging through some crates that were set against the wall.

"Unless you have a better idea," she snapped, "I suggest you—"

The door was thrown off its hinges, shredding the wood into splinters, and Willy covered her head with her arms to shield herself. She cursed as she felt blood dripping down her forearm. Somewhere nearby Lucretia was screaming hysterically, and Hojo was yelling for her to be quiet, and Chaos was snarling; all the sounds mixed like mad paint in her mind. She looked up to see the beast shouldering its way through the opening where there had once been a door. Its eyes, filled with hatred and searching for blood, landed on Hojo.

"Ha! I was right about you," the Professor snorted, his hands still groping through the crate. Lucretia clung to him fearfully. "This is your true form."

Chaos prepared to pounce, and though Willy's shots proved to be ineffective it forced the demon to recoil. "Damnit, I told you to get the hell out of here!" she hollered over her shoulder. When she glanced back she was surprised to find Korben and Gavin covering her from behind. "Thanks for showing up."

"You can't kill him," Korben said. He was watching the beast with wide, disbelieving eyes. One hand was fastened about a Gaea card, the other white-knuckled around his firearm. "Let's retreat."

"What? But—"

"Willy, that's Vincent," Gavin interrupted. "It maybe a monster, but it's him. I know it is."

The female Turk went stiff with his words. Her gaze leapt instantly to the face of the creature, searching the missfigured countenance for something she might have recognized; she was met with only red eyes and protruding fangs. Surly this was not her Vincent, the man she'd trusted time and time again with her secrets and her life. It could not have been her willing older brother, her friend and comrade. Before her she saw only a monster, twisted and without even a glimmer of compassion.

It couldn't be him.

Chaos charged, screaming in rage with claws raised. Willy lifted her gun. Across the barrel she sighted its face. She aimed at it forehead, intending to shoot dead this monster who dared to mock her ancient companion. But as it raced toward her now, she could not bring herself to pull the trigger. Something inside her refused to act, and went so far as to lower her weapon once more. Because more than anything she trusted Vincent.

The beast did not relent. With blinding speed its left hand struck out, and Willy was shocked to feel the sharpened claws digging into her chest. She suddenly felt as if she could not breathe, and her heart with all its blood leapt into her throat and ears.

She was falling. Her legs buckled and folded beneath her, and she collapsed, doll-like, onto the cold stone earth. The pain of her injury came a moment later, stealing away her conscious thoughts so that she could see only the rock ceiling above her—the rest of her senses were numbed by the hot, stabbing anguish.


	13. Chapter 13

Fearful Symmetry

Chapter 13: Chaos—Immortal Hand

* * *

_"Willow!"_

Gavin watched helplessly as Chaos attacked, tearing three long wounds across the woman's chest. His mind weas a blur as she fell onto her back, gasping and trembling in shock. The beast surveyed its work casually before moving past her, setting its sights on Professor Hojo.

"It…can't be…" murmured Lucretia, staring at the demon's eyes as it stalked towards her and her husband. She gripped his arm and began to shout, "What did you do to him? What _is_ he? What happened to Vincent?"

Gavin ignored them, moving swiftly out of Chaos's way; now out of its path the monstrosity paid him no notice. He knelt beside Willy, removing his shirt so that he could tie it around her chest as a makeshift bandage. She moaned in pain. "Hold on," he told her, pressing down on the wound. She cried weakly and swatted at his hands. "Don't move. I'm trying to help."

"Vincent, stop!" Lucretia continued to plead. "This isn't you—you're not a monster!" The beast continued its approach anyway.

Korben followed Gavin's example by staying well out of Chaos's way. "That really is Chaos," he whispered distantly. He shook himself. "No, I can do this. Gavin, I'll need your help."

"Jay, Willy's in trouble," he replied, tightening his bandage. "Can't you help her?"

"Maybe." He retrieved the rest of his cards and handed him one that displayed a small white flower among the backdrop of the slums. "This is Lilly. Hold it on her chest and concentrate—hard. I'll be back."

"But—"

"Hold it." Korben pulled a length of boot lace from his pocket, stringing it through a hole he'd cut in the top. "I didn't expect to have to do this," he muttered, advancing on the creature from behind. So far Hojo had been able to hold Chaos at bay with the double-barreled shotgun he'd produced form the crates; in Nibelheim, wolves and other animals were common, making such protection a necessity. As Chaos's first attention was on the scientist, Korben was able to come very close. He squatted beside the beast's tail.

Chaos growled a warning, freezing the Turk in mid-motion; it knew he was there. It had been perfectly aware the entire time, though the man's presence was not enough to warrant a response. But Korben knew that if he attempted to seal the demon as he had with Gavin, he would quickly label himself as a threat.

_He's too strong now. I'll have to find some way to weaken him._

Chaos snorted, seemingly pleased as the Turk did not attempt to move against it. The demon's right hand shot out, snapping around Lucretia and dragging her away from her husband. She screamed shrilly and pulled against him; her voice rang in terror within the stone walls. Her reaction startled the beast, and it stared at her as if she'd lost her senses. The woman pried and pushed at the elongated fingers twisted around her arm, sobbing to be released.

Korben took advantage of the animal's momentary distraction. He carefully looped the boot lace around Chaos's calf, in one swift motion tightening the string and binding Gaea to its leg. Chaos roared angrily, preparing to turn and strike, but at that moment Hojo fired his shot gun. The explosion of gunpowder and blood was so close to the Turk that he fell onto his back. Lucretia was released as the beast bellowed and screamed; she clung to Korben as the closest human comfort. Quickly he half-dragged her away from the flailing demon. Hojo followed suit.

Chaos turned and fled. None of the observers made a move as it disappeared through one of the tunnel's open doorways, leaving behind the echoes of its pained cries.

And a severed arm.

Korben stared at the black limb as Lucretia sobbed against his chest. Hojo's shot had been fired at so close a range that the beast's left arm had been sheared off at the elbow; black life-fluid spilled sluggishly across the floor and into its cracks. The claws at its end twitched, flexing and relaxing, before finally laying still.

"Lucretia." Korben gently eased the woman back, hoping to calm her in some way. When he could think of no assurance to give, he reluctantly handed her to her husband. The scientist appeared more interested in studying the beast's remains, however, than assisting his wife. He decided that it was not of his present concern.

"Jay," Gavin called in the silence that followed, "I need your help."

The Turk nodded and joined his friend. Willy was barely conscious, trembling and pale, her eyes wide but blind. The bleeding had stopped, but she was obvious not in good shape. He checked the wounds that crossed her chest and added his jacked to Gavin's soaked bandage-shirt. "It's a good thing she's so well endowed," he remarked to lighten his companion's misgivings. "I don't think he hit anything vital, but she'll need some surgery if you two even get kid."

"Cut it out, Jay. That's not funny."

"Calm down—she's okay." He placed his hand over the Lilly card, which was by now saturated with Willy's blood. She slowly closed her eyes, and her shaking lessened. "Take her to the town doctor. He'll help. I'll take care of Vincent."

Gavin's face reflected doubt as he glanced at the severed arm, then the door in which Chaos had fled. "Do you really think you can?"

"I came here to seal Jenova," he replied. "And I intend to do so. Now go. Willy needs _your_ help."

The man nodded, not that his concerns had been at all alleviated. Being very careful of Willy's injury he gathered her into his arms and stood. Without a second galnce he headed swiftly for the stairwell.

"Is she all right?" Lucretia asked. She was seated on the floor, holding Hojo's lab coat around her as if it would give her some warmth. "Is she…?"

"She'll be fine," Korben asured distractedly. He was already on his way toward the side room, pausing only to check his handgun. His harsh gaze fell on Hojo. "Don't follow me. If he kills me he'll be _your_ problem, but until then you let me handle this."

The scientist nodded his agreement.

Korben moved to the door slowly. He didn't know what to expect, but the overpowering sense of evil that had called him to the basement had lessened. He hoped it was a good sign. From the doorway he could see very little of the room due to its lack of light; only dark shapes against a darker backdrop. He could hear, however, a faint whimpering, gasping wound. With a deep breath to calm his nerves he stepped inside.

"Don't," came the harsh voice of a man. "Don't…come."

"Vincent, it's Korben." The Turk entered deeper, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the shadows. He was in a small room that was empty except for several long, rectangular boxes that littered the interior. He moved past them. Huddled in the corner was a man, naked and trembling. A _human_, with something tied to its lower calf. He sighed with a bit of relief. "At least you're back to normal."

"Don't come any closer," Vincent insisted, pulling himself closer to the rock. His voice was strained with agony, fear, and guilt. "Just go, before—"

"I'm here to help you. Be still." Korben knelt in front of the crumpled man; his mind was spinning. Vincent's reverse transformation must have been forced by the shock of his gun wound, but most likely the demon Chaos was still present and waiting for an opportunity to return. If he was going to seal it, he would have to do it now, and quickly.

"Vincent, do you know what's happened to you?" He could see the more clearly now: the Senior Turk was leaning against the wall, holding his left arm—which now terminated at his elbow in a ragged stump—against his body. There was very little blood despite how severed the injury should have been. "You have Jenova inside you. When I made the Chaos card, somehow I knew about all this."

Vincent shuddered. "Oh God, Willy…did I…?"

Korben shook his head, wondering if Vincent had even heard him. "No, she's alive. Gavin took her to a doctor." He licked his lips. "I need to seal this demon. I can, but Chaos is strong—I'll need help from you."

"I…I don't know." He turned his head to face the man, startling him; Vincent's eyes were glowing deep, eerie crimson, like blood set aflame. He then revealed his left arm. The stump was no longer a mass of ripped flesh; the blood flow had ceased due to the creation of a flat metal plate laid over the exposed end. It shone dully in the dim light like finely polished gold. Both Turks watched, bewildered, as the mass began to grow, elongating into a length of metallic bone. It swelled, adding false tendons, muscles, veins, and skin. A set of fire sharpened claws formed instead of fingers.

"As long as you wear this gold," Vincent murmured distantly, "you will both still be cursed." His eyes drank in every inch of the strange new limb he'd been granted. "This…is punishment. It's my fault…." He turned his gaze on Korben, who couldn't help but flinch under the harsh stare. "I wasn't…I couldn't convince Lucretia. If only I'd stopped her sooner…none of this…" He shook his head. "Lucretia, Gavin, Raile, Willy—it's all my fault. And now…"

"Vincent, stop it. This isn't—"

"And now I'm not even human anymore. You…can't help me." His expression twisted in pain. "I've done something awful. I didn't…but now…." He turned his head away when he realized how deeply his appearance was frightening the younger man. "I'm a monster."

Korben gulped, searching through his options. They were limited and risky. "I can't get rid of Jenova," he told the man quietly. "Only seal it temporarily."

Vincent didn't reply for some time, making his comrade nervous. "You can't cure me. I…might turn into…that thing again."

"…Yes." He closed his eyes briefly. "It may be best…if you didn't come with us."

Another long silence followed. "I don't want to hurt anyone," he said at last. "You should all leave me, before I do something awful." His voice lowered in regret. "Willy…I could have killed her."

"I'll come back." Korben began to form a plan in his mind. "I'll take Willy and Gavin away. I'm going to try and find help—I'll find a way to cure you, then I'll come back."

"I don't—"

"Wait for me, Vincent," he insisted. "I'll find a way. Until then, I can only help you with this." He removed the card from Vincent's leg, staining it with the blood that had pooled in the room's jagged floor. "Hold this to your chest," he instructed, tying it in place with his laces. He then moved to the boxes lining the walls; there were several old articles of fabric. He discovered a thick red curtain and draped it over his senior. "Find a place to stay. I'm taking Willy and Gavin to Cosmo Canyon, so you can find us a few months from now. I'll find a cure."

Vincent nodded, pulling the material tightly around him as if he could bind himself in that old fabric. "What aobut Lucretia?"

"Hojo won't let he out of his sight, not after seeing you."

"Yes…you're right."

"Come find us soon." He clapped his hand on the man's shoulder once in comfort. "Don't worry. I'll take care of everything. Just concentrate on yourself. And don't take that card off." He stood and, so as to not project any air of doubt, exited the room swiftly and confidently.

In the corridor outside, Hojo had called the other scientists, and was presently engaged in a heated debate with an older, brown-haired man—presumably Dr. Gast. The other doctors were milling about, prodding at the severed arm and pools of blood curiously. They glanced up as Korben entered, but his closed the door behind him to deflect their prying eyes. He quickly located Lucretia, seated near the stairwell with a black-haired woman. He explained to the men and women about him that Chaos was gone—vanished, without a trace. Though most of them cast him skeptical glances, Hojo corroborated his story. He ignored them and crossed to Lucretia.

The woman was pale and disheveled, huddled under the arm of her dark-haired companion. She raised her eyes hesitantly to meet his, and even though he didn't think she'd been listening, she said, "Vinent's gone?"

Korben sighed, squatting in front of her. "Yes," he told her quietly. "He's gone, but he's all right. I…helped him a little. But he won't be coming back here."

Lucretia nodded slowly, Her hand tightened around that of her friend. She didn't speak for quite some time, and after a moment of awkwardness, he continued. "Vincent has been tainted by a demon." She flinched at his words. "By Jenova, which is now in your child."

"How dare you," the fellow scientist snapped. "How can you—"

"Isa." Lucretia silenced her friend with the tone of her voice. She waited for the Turk to go on.

"I need you to do something for me." He removed from his coat the last Gaea card and placed it in her hand. "When the child is born, touch this card with its blood and leave it in the crib. It won't hurt him—I promise you that. It might even save his life."

Lucretia stared at him, as if having not noticed the card. She refused to look at it. But then, if only a bit, her fingers curled.

"Good girl. Take care of that child." Korben offered her a small, comforting smile. "If you need help, for any reason at all, bring the child to me in Cosmo Canyon. But don't tell your husband." He gazed fixedly at the other scientist. "And you, too. If either of you care for Vincent, or the child, or anything, you'll care for it and never speak of me to anyone. Promise me you won't."

Lucretia bit her lip, battling with her indecision. She didn't want to mistrust her husband, he knew. At long last she nodded. "I promise."

"Thank you." The Turk pushed to his feet, glancing about to make sure Hojo was still far away and too occupied with his superior to have heard. Satisfied, he stepped past the two women into the stairwell. Only then did he take a moment to lower his head, and pray.

* * *

Willy awoke slowly into unfamiliar surroundings. The air was warm, chilled only with a slight breeze, and soft graze tickled her face. Her eyelids fluttered open to reveal a canopy of leafy green. She was outside.

She attempted to sit up, but a firm hand came down on her shoulder and held her still. "Not so fast," a man's voice advised. "You're not completely healed yet."

"Gavin?" Her eyes adjusted quickly to the morning light, and she was able to make out his face hovering over her. "Where are we?"

"On our way to Cosmo Canyon," he replied. His voice sounded strange to her—hollow, almost. She assumed it was an effect of her prolonged slumber. "Several miles away from Nibelheim. We stopped for lunch."

"We're outside Nibelheim?" This time Willy did sit up, grimacing faintly at the pain in her chest; she was sore, but her wounds appeared to have been healed with materia. She was clothed in one of her spare T-shirts. They were beneath the cover of a large tree, one of many in a small woodland area to the edge of the plains leading to Cosmo Canyon. "But why? What…."

Her face paled as she finally remembered the events of that day. "Where's Vincent?" she demanded, searching the area for some sing of him. A man in a navy Turk's suit was nearby; her hopes rose until he turned, revealing Korben. She turned to Gavin once more. "What happened?"

Gavin hesitated, then waved for Korben to return. "You'd better as Jay. He understands it better than me."

Willy raised her sight to her fellow Turk in pleading. "Before you say anything," Korben told her, "let me explain. Hear me out."

"I'm listening, so talk. Where is he?"

Korben sat down beside her with a sigh. "Still in Nibelheim, I think," he replied. "So is Lucretia. We had no choice."

"But—"

He held up his hand. "No, wait. I'm explaining." He paused for a moment. "Willy, Vincent was injected with Jenova, like Gavin." The SOLDIER member glanced away shamefully. "Remember the four cards? Pawn, Amphorus, Serramph, and Chaos. I don't know how yet, but they're really important—to everyone. And…I can't do anything about it. Hopefully I'll find something in Cosmo Canyon to help me. Until then, Chaos is too much of a danger. I've asked that Vincent exile himself."

Willy lowered her head, as it had begun to throb. She also didn't want him to see the pained look on her face. "So until you find a way to exercise Chaos, we won't see him again."

"Maybe." Korben straightened somewhat. "But I'll find something, and he'll be all right until then. In fact, I don't think anything can hurt him now. I'll find a way to help Vincent, so don't worry." And then, for her benefit, he added, "He didn't mean to hurt you, Willy."

She nodded slowly. "I know. I…trust Vincent." She closed her eyes, reaffirming her faith in her friend. She pasted a soft, sad smile into her expression.

_I'll find a way to help you, Vincent. I promise._

* * *

That night Professor Ian Hojo visited the basement laboratory of the Shinra mansion. The entire Jenova project was about to be relocated to Midgar; in light of recent events, it was obvious that their work was in need of more advanced security. A team from Midgar had already bee contacted to assist in the transportation of their supplies. Presently, however, the underground floor was empty.

Hojo chuckled to himself as he twisted the card in his pocket. Though Lucretia's sentimentality had often been somewhat of an annoyance, her devotion to him had lately proven quite valuable. _The Turk honestly believed Jenova's power could be captured by something as simple as this_, he thought to himself with a haughty grin. _The fool._ He moved to and opened the side door.

As he had expected, the room was dark and empty. Except for one pair of brilliant red eyes. They glared at him from the chamber's furthest, deepest shadows, narrowed in hatred. Their crimson glow reflected off a length of metal.

"I knew you hadn't vanished," the scientist murmured triumphantly. "You wouldn't leave. But you shouldn't bother." He looked on the crouched man in wonder. "Such a splendid creation of mine shouldn't allow itself to be dominated by a mere woman."

The scarlet orbs narrowed into slits, but other than that his words brought no reaction. Hojo continued. "I have the child now." At last he was rewarded by a shifting of movement. "I've decided to name it Sephiroth. Isn't it fitting? My son."

The shadowed man gave no reply.

"In case you're wondering why I obtained him so quickly, it's because we had somewhat of an unfortunate accident. You see, Lucretia killed herself just after your friends left, but we were able to save the boy. Not quite a fitting birth, but acceptable for me. Lucretia is dead because of you, Mr. Valentine. I hope you enjoy Hell together."

During his short speech the man had leapt to his feet, the red crescents widening into spheres. He opened his mouth—to rage, deny, question, or simply gasp, Hojo didn't know and didn't care. With a quiet chuckle he closed the door once more, and slipped the key into the lock.


	14. Epilogue

Fearful Symmetry

Epilogue: Amphorus

* * *

Vincent Valentine stared with dulled, unseeing eyes at the stone alter before him. He knew that coming back to this place was folly—what did he wish to find, hidden behind the sheet of crystal water? Whatever magic within the cave was gone now, as if having leaked through the cracks in the blue walls. Lucrecia was gone now, as well. He continued to stare, however, as if she would return and speak once more. Even if she was a ghost, a hallucination—even his own mind's false creation—it didn't matter. He would do anything to see that face, and hear her voice.

But there was no apparition waiting for him; no gentle smile, nor sharp admonishment. The cave, save the shuffling movements of his party and the waterfall, was empty and silent. He closed his eyes, hoping to conjure some image there worth viewing, but again was disappointed. He could see only blood.

"Vincent?" As Cloud was their leader—his leader, now—it was he the others chose to speak to him as the minutes lapsed. "Do you want us to leave you?"

Vincent opened his eyes once more, gazing down at the stone floor. "I thought she might be here," he said quietly, not knowing why he was speaking. It felt good, however, to break the stillness.

The blonde nodded, a look of empathy in his face. When Vincent looked at him now, he saw many things that were in his own reflection—guilt, loss, sorrow. But Cloud had something in his brilliant blue eyes that the dark man didn't: will. Despite all the battles, punishments, and failures, Cloud would go on. He would march into Hell and challenge the origin of his nightmares, if only to keep going and to live.

Vincent envied that bravery. As a Turk he'd been flawless and dedicated, but even then the loss of his beloved Lucretia had deadened him. For three decades he had abandoned the world and himself, too ashamed by his own mistakes and weaknesses to emerge. But now, he was here, among these people who fought so hard and had so many reasons to live. Like Cloud, he would have to cast away his selfish fears and face the future, as terrible and lonely as it may be.

"You're going to fight Sephiroth, aren't you?"

Cloud nodded, a bit startled by the sudden question. "Yes. No matter what it takes."

"I thought so."

The young leader paused. Even after weeks of traveling together, he still didn't know how to react to the old Turk's stoic demeanor. "No one's asking you to go, Vincent. You don't have to."

Vincent didn't respond. Instead he reached into the front of his black shirt with his left hand, using the gold digits to cut through a piece of string tied about his torso. He removed the Gaea card. All these years he had kept it fastened to his heart as an old friend had instructed, trusting in the icon as the symbol of his penance. It kept the demon Chaos from emerging, even if other, less-developed creatures took its place. He believed that, as long as he could keep his full power from being exposed, he could not be completely consumed by it.

"No matter what," he repeated. "To fight Sephiroth. It will take all our power."

Cloud didn't reply, simply waiting.

"I will go with you." Vincent let the card slip from his fingers, watching as it slowly floated down to the damp cave floor. The red demon eyes stared back at him as if pleased. "Let us leave this place. There is much to prepare for."

Cloud nodded, signaling to the rest of their group that it was time to depart. They turned and exited the cave through the waterfall. Their leader followed last, glancing at Vincent one last time with a grim smile.

Vincent joined them, turning his back on the alter and the card. _May Lucretia forgive me,_ his mind whispered, _for what I have done. Someday…_ He sighed, and shook his head. The card had released him only moments before, and already he could feel something in his insides changing.

_I'm beginning to feel less human.

* * *

_

*End

Okay, so this one didn't end so happily, but, oh well! Let me know what you thought.


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